


If Not Victory, Then Revenge

by IllegalCerebral



Series: CM Bingo 2020 [3]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Attempted Murder, Bittersweet Ending, Buried Alive, Criminal Minds Bingo 2020, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Forced Retirement, Forced Teamwork, Kidnapping, Kissing, Lies, Murder, Mutual Pining, On the Run, Power Dynamics, Protective Team, Returning Team Member, Revenge, Secret Identity, Secret Identity Fail, Sharing a Bed, Slow Romance, Team Dynamics, Team Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24302704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllegalCerebral/pseuds/IllegalCerebral
Summary: While the BAU may have proved Spencer’s innocence they couldn’t stop Cat Adams killing his mother and going on the run. He can’t trust the FBI anymore and the chances of justice being done are slim so Spencer takes off on his own with only one goal: find Cat Adams and make her pay. He doesn’t account for the presence of a kind stranger however and as Spencer closes in on Cat the price of revenge grows.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Emily Prentiss, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau & Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid/Reader
Series: CM Bingo 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597159
Comments: 17
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **I do not give consent for this story to be copied and reposted to another platform. I only post my work here and on my tumblr, if your see this story anywhere else it has been stolen.**
> 
> This story was written for @dontshootmespence's angst alphabet challenge on tumblr. My entry is V for Vengeance.

“More Coffee?” You smiled at the man with his nose buried in a pile of papers. Hastily he shoved them off of the table and on the chair next to him, out of sight. The man had been staying in your hotel, The Inn for the past four weeks, turning up in a thunderstorm in the middle of the night. Despite his slightly wild look at the time he had been polite and softly spoken, giving a generous tip.

“Please.” He moved his cup towards you with a small smile. It was genuine but strained. He always looked tired, not just from lack of sleep but as if he was haunted by something.

“Anything else to eat?” You nodded at the empty plate that had held a couple of slices of toast.

“I don’t really have an appetite,” said the man, “but could I order something for dinner later?”

“Sure. We have a choice of chicken stew and dumplings, pulled pork with sweet potato, or a vegetable soup. All family recipes,” you added with a wink. The man blinked rapidly, almost flustered.

“Um, soup?”

“I’ll save you a bowl and some homemade bread.”

“Hey, um, not be nosy but do you know this area well?” he asked as you turned to leave. You raised an eyebrow. “I was told that Oakville is worth a visit and that it’s fairly nearby.” It wasn’t the first lie this guy had told you. The name he had signed in the guestbook - Thomas Merton like the monk - was fake and his story about travelling through was flimsy but your little corner of the world saw a lot of desperate people passing through. You had assumed this guy was one of them. Your gut told you he wasn’t dangerous but to say Oakville was a dive would be an understatement.

“I’d stay out of there,” you said evenly, “lot a drugs, and crime there and the police are worse than useless.”

“I’m looking for someone.” That was the truth and a reluctantly revealed one at that.

“Friend of yours in trouble?” He shook his head and took a long sip of his coffee. Buying time to make up an answer, you thought.

“A friend of a friend. He may have passed through here around fifteen years ago and stayed in Oakville for a while.” You nodded, biting your lip in thought.

“Our handyman Sammy might know him. I was in college at the time but Sammy used to drink in Oakville before it became a real shit show. I can send him your way sometime?”

“That would be good.” He was trying to seem nonchalant but there was an almost tangible aura of relief around him.

“Dinner’s served from 6 to 9,” you reminded him as you headed back to the kitchen.

“You like him,” Niamh the cook sighed and shook her head at you as you loaded up the dishwasher. Since your grandmother died and left you The Inn, Niamh and Sammy and the rest of the staff who stayed had become like family to you. That included Niamh warning you to be wary of the handsome stranger.

“That one has a story,” you shrugged instead of answering properly. He intrigued you and you were definitely attracted. Running The Inn on a desolate stretch of road surrounded by little nowhere towns meant you didn’t have the richest dating life. Yet there was something dangerous in the air. Not him. You looked at him and imagined soft hands, strong and reassuring. Everything about the way he held himself screamed careful and controlled. But it was like a spectre clung to him. Your grandma would have said he was touched by darkness but then she had always put a lot of stock in unseen things.

Peering through the serving hatch you saw him open up his folder stuffed with papers, news clippings, and printouts. He scribbled notes and drew lines all over them. Whatever he was looking for, he was determined to find it.

* * *

“This is bullshit’” JJ whispered for the twentieth time, leg bouncing under the table. Emily looked at her sympathetically. This whole ridiculous charade was getting on everyone’s last nerves but they couldn’t afford to get on the wrong side of the Director.

Across the table from them sat ADs Barnes and Barbour, a senior OPI agent and two underlings. Barnes looked like she’d won the jackpot and Barbour was unreadable. The rest just looked bored.

“So,” Barnes started with a shark like smile, “It’s been three months since Dr Reid’s release from prison and you still have no idea where he is?”

“Ma’am,” Emily tried to keep her tone as even as possible, “SSA Dr Reid was cleared of any wrong doing _in absentia_ -“

“But not reinstated,” Barnes cut in, “So it’s simply Dr Reid right now.” Emily thought she was going to have to stop JJ diving over the table and taking a swing her.

“He was framed.” JJ snapped. “He was framed, drugged, assaulted, completely disowned by the very people who should have defended him and then he was thrown into general population where he was assaulted _again_ -“

“And possibly committed a mass poisoning,” Barnes snarled. 

“We barely got him out of there alive,” JJ continued, “then we had minimal Bureau back up when we had to go after the criminals that framed him. There’s blood on your hands.” Barnes stood up, seething but Barbour cut her off.

“The death of Diana Reid was a tragedy as was the wounding of several of your team members-“

“Stephen Walker is still in the ICU,” said Emily, “he will never be an active agent again. SSA Dr Lewis is currently undergoing physiotherapy and David Rossi, a man who founded this unit, is still on desk duty and I’m not sure when he will be cleared for the field. Lindsey Vaughn’s attack did more than just wound them and with all due respect it is an insult not just to them, but to every man and woman who has ever been injured in the line of duty that our team is being railroaded. When Catherine Adams was first arrested Agent Hotchner recommended that she be monitored closely. She posed a significant risk from day one and our guidelines for her incarceration were ignored which allowed her to attack an agent.”

“Erin Strauss once said an attack on one agent is an attack on the entire FBI,” said JJ, “you let Cat do that and now she’s out there doing God knows what. You haven’t even released her name and description to the media!”

“The last thing we want to do is cause a panic,” said Barnes. Her hands were balled into fists, the knuckles white. Emily looked between her and JJ. Part of her wanted to see them go at it, release some of the ridiculous tension that had been building, not just in this room, but ever since Spencer’s disappearance. JJ’s career would never survive though so she got herself to take a deep breath.

“Cat Adams is a sophisticated manipulator. She got an experienced prison guard to do her bidding through seduction and blackmail,” Emily said. “She will find another vulnerable person to do her bidding. She never has to surface because she still has connections and resources from her career as a hit woman.”

“That still doesn’t answer the question of where Dr Reid is,” said Barbour. “He’s a trained Agent who has suffered months of trauma and then a terrible bereavement and the woman responsible for that is on the run. Could he be a danger to himself or others?”

“Absolutely not,” Emily lied. Inside she was shaking. She knew exactly what Spencer was doing even if she didn’t know where he was. The only question was would he find Cat before she found him? Honestly she wasn’t sure which outcome was worse. Prison had changed him almost beyond recognition.

“The BAU can’t run point on the Catherine Adams case,” Barnes said. “You’re all too close.”

“That’s bull-“ Barbour held up his hand again to stop JJ from finishing. She slumped down in her chair, fists clenched.

“However you do know her better than anyone else and Luke Alvez specialises in recapturing fugitives so you have three weeks and you will be monitored closely,” Barbour warned.

“Thank you,” Emily rose from her seat and shook his hand, pointedly ignoring Barnes’ look of contempt. “We will do our best. Who are you sending to monitor us?”

As if summoned the door opened and Emily felt the air leave her lungs. JJ gave a small _what?_ Dimly aware she had to let go of Barbour’s hand now, Emily turned.

“Hotch?”

“Your old Unit Chief,” Barnes said. “He knows you, he knows Dr Reid and he has many years’ expertise leading a team.” There was a pointed emphasis on the word leading. They weren’t being monitored. This was a coup. No matter what anyone said Emily has effectively lost command of the BAU. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter, all that mattered was finding Spencer and keeping him safe but Emily’s chest was burning hotter and hotter with each step closer that Hotch took. He nodded to the Assistant Directors and was saying something that was lost over the sound of the blood pounding in Emily’s ears. Finally the three of them were alone. The silence was heavy. Hotch opened his mouth to speak but Emily got there first.

“Do you have a plan?” She asked. Everything felt so wildly of control that the least she could try and do was steer this conversation.

“We have to be discreet,” said Hotch. That was code word for “the public cannot find out”. JJ made a small noise beside her. “Finding Reid is just as much of a priority as finding Catherine Adams.”

“He is not an unsub.” It was a warning as much as a statement. If nothing else, Emily was not about to let her best friend be hunted down like a dog.

“I know,” said Hotch, “but he’s out there and whether or not you want to admit it he’s dangerous.”

* * *

Spencer slammed his fist into the dashboard of the rental car. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. Part of him wanted to turn around and drive to Quantico, let the team help him or even take over. They’d be able to hunt Cat down.

But they couldn’t make her pay. Not like he wanted to. Not like she needed to pay for all the pain and hurt she’d caused. It wasn’t about prison anymore. Spencer didn’t care that he couldn’t sleep more than three hours without waking up in a cold sweat; afraid he was going to be beaten in an inch of his life. He didn’t care that he saw Luis’ terrified face in the eyes of every stranger. He didn’t even care that he was now in a permanent state of hyperawareness, seeing threats in every corner.

What Spencer cared about was that his mother’s last day on earth had been filled with terror and pain. Lindsey had flipped the switch and blown up most of Wilkins’ cabin. His team had barely escaped with their lives but Diana had died and Lindsey was in a coma and useless as a witness. What was worse was that it had all been for a nothing. It was a diversion to move Cat and charge her with new crimes and have a phony lawyer break her out of jail. They’d found his body riddled with bullet wounds in a shitty motel just outside DC.

It had taken two days of Spencer sitting in the dark in his apartment staring at the wall and willing the tears to come, to realise that the only way this was going to end was with him putting Cat Adams in the ground. Violently.

There was a soft tapping on the car window. He glanced up to see you looking at him with a soft, but concerned smile. His chest clenched.

“It’s pretty late,” you said as he rolled down the window, “and you’ve technically missed dinner but you’ve been sitting out here in your car for like an hour so I figured you were in desperate need of soup.”

“You saved some?”

“Oh yeah. My Grandma used to say there was no problem her vegetable soup couldn’t solve, that and a friendly ear. I’ve got two of those.” Your smile faded when Spencer didn’t return it. His thoughts felt so jumbled whenever he looked at you. The stain of prison was still on him and now this desperate need for vengeance had risen up to meet it and there you were offering him soup and comfort.

“I don’t want to cause you any trouble…” he began.

“No trouble. I just have to reheat it.”

The dining area felt so large with no one in it but you still set out the cutlery and lit the little tea light in the jam jar just for him.

“I’ll leave you to it,” you said, setting the food down in front of him.

“No!” Spencer hadn’t meant to say anything. It was the quiet. After prison and the chaos that has followed silence was just too much. “I mean…I’d appreciate the company.” You quirked an eyebrow but say down opposite, legs crossed and one arm slung over the back of the chair.

“Here I was thinking you were the type that likes the pleasure of your own company.”

“I was. I mean I am but right now I think I’d prefer not to be alone.” You looked at him thoughtfully, biting your lip. Spencer tore off a piece of bread and dipped it in the soup. It was rich and herby and he had to suppress a groan of pleasure. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was and this was delicious.

“Confession or distraction?”

“What?”

“You want to confess something or do you want me to distract you from whatever you’ve got on your mind,” you asked. “Basically do you want me to do the talking or you?”

“You.” It came out quicker that Spencer expected. He took a spoonful of soup to distract himself or you. He wasn’t sure.

“Okay but in exchange, when I’m done you have to tell me something true about yourself.”

Spencer frowned. It felt like a game. Too much like something he couldn’t win. It was horribly familiar.

No. This was different. You weren’t Cat.

Despite not agreeing you began talking. You told him about inheriting The Inn from your grandmother. You told him about growing up surrounded by nature and how you had originally wanted to work with animals. You loved horses and cats and dogs but had never been allowed a pet as a child. Your dreams were put on hold when you had to run The Inn and though you never said it, you were sad your life hadn’t worked out the way you wanted.

The people working at the hotel were your family though and you clearly adored them. Sammy was like a kooky uncle who told funny stories and taught you to play cards. Niamh was the wise aunt who worried about everyone and baked treats and Laurie and Amy-Beth, the two teenage girls who worked part time were like the kid sisters you never had.

Spencer listened to it all with interest and a pang. Not a pang of jealousy but of wistfulness. You sounded so full of love when you talked about them.

“That was amazing thank you. I’m sorry to put you out like that.”

“No trouble,” you shrugged, “but you owe me something true. Doesn’t have to be a secret or anything big. Tell me your favourite colour or something.”

That made even less sense.

“Why?”

“Because nothing you’ve told me since your got here is true and I want to hear you tell me something that is.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Because nothing you’ve told me since you got here is true and I want to hear you tell me something that is.”

His face was white as a sheet. You could see him trying to decide whether to push through with the lie or give up.

“Half the people who come here use fake names,” you continued, your tone easy. “Most of them don’t use Trappist monks as aliases though. Thomas Merton? Really?”

“He’s my favourite philosopher,” he said weakly. “Why aren’t you more concerned?” You shrugged and gathered up his bowl and side plate.

“Like I said, there’s a lot of that around here. You don’t strike me as the dangerous type. You’re polite, you just sat and listened to me ramble about my boring life for about an hour like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.” He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it, brow furrowed and eyes darting around as if he was trying to solve an impossible puzzle. You took the dirty plates to the kitchen and returned with a wrapped up square of brownie. He looked like he’d had his fill of company for one night.

“Purple,” he said. Your fingers brushed as you handed him the brownie. “My favourite colour is purple.” You tried to imagine the colour on him and it suited him.

“Good choice,” you smiled.

“And my real name is-“ You cut him off with a finger to the lips. The gesture wasn’t planned and the moment skin met skin you felt as if you had crossed some kind of threshold. His eyes were wide but he didn’t move.

“One secret’s enough for tonight, I don’t want you to regret anything.” You let your hand drop and for a moment the two of you just stood there, the air heavy.

“Thank you.” You wanted to joke that it was just a brownie but you knew it wasn’t that. Instead you gave a small, shy smile and watched him head back upstairs to his room. After he’d gone it felt like some of the air returned to the room. Had you made a mistake not letting him tell you his name?

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. The thought circled around your head as you went to sleep and it greeted you when you awoke first thing in the morning. You sat at the front desk in kind of a daze.

“You okay there kiddo?” Sammy asked, as he got ready to head to town to get some parts for repairs.

“Just tired I guess,” you said as reassuringly as you could manage. “Hey later on do you mind if I introduce you to one of our guests?”

“Problem with their room?”

“No he has some questions about the local area.” Sammy looked confused but he agreed. He gave Laurie a mock salute as they passed each other on his way out. She had a spring in her step and the widest grin you’d ever seen.

“And who has put this look on your face?” you teased. Laurie blushed.

“Her name’s Jennie,” Laurie dropped her voice to a whisper as she hurried behind the desk. “It’s early days but oh my god! Do you believe in love at first sight? Because I totally thought it was bullshit but I think I’m falling hard!” Wow the girl was swooning. It was sweet to see. Laurie had been through a lot in the past few years. Her mother had been sick for a while and her Dad was a deadbeat who had skipped out on them leaving a mountain of debt in addition to steep hospital fees. Her romantic choices had also left a lot to be desired.

“Where did you guys meet?”

“Community college. She was hanging around at the library and I was having a not so minor meltdown about my paper and my Dad had just called and Jennie was so sweet. She brought me an iced latte and sat me down outside and she just listened to me cry it out. She’s so funny and smart and kind. I laugh so much when we’re together.”

“That’s so nice,” you sighed dreamily, “you need to bring her round sometime. We can whip up a romantic meal for you guys on the house!” Jennie continued gushing for a while longer, you barely noticed not-Thomas Merton slipping out of the front door. You would have missed him completely had he not turned and paused in the doorway and flashed you a small, hesitant smile. Your stomach did a little flip.

Maybe you did believe.

* * *

The tension at the roundtable was thick. JJ’s face was a blank mask but she had been bouncing her leg non-stop since Hotch had started speaking. Penelope couldn’t hide the anguish on her face, her gaze flitting between Emily and Hotch. Tara, Luke, and Rossi just looked uncomfortable. No one wanted this to be the way they saw Hotch again.

The table was covered with files and crime scene photos and behind them on the screen was Spencer’s ID picture next to Cat’s photo. It made Emily want to rip the thing off the wall but instead she concentrated on her breathing and keeping her hands folded in her lap as Hotch spoke.

“AD Barnes and AD Barbour have informed us that the Director wants to keep the news of Car Adams’ escape from custody out of the media. They think it will cause panic.”

“And make them look bad,” Rossi cut in. “This is a terrible idea. The public have a right to know she’s out there.”

“She kills for money,” said Hotch, “so she isn’t an immediate threat. There’s no chance she ‘ll go on spree.”

“She didn’t kill Diana for money,” JJ said evenly, “that was about revenge.”

There was an awkward silence.

“So we need to think about what’s motivating her now,” Tara said after a moment. “She got her revenge on Reid. She got out of prison. What does Cat want next?”

“To go back to her old life?” Luke suggested. “Try and re-establish herself as a hit woman?”

“I got in touch with our old friend The Snowman through Witsec,” said Penelope, “he’s sending through their old contact systems and he’s put some alerts out there already. I’m looking into some of the icky corners of the dark web to see if she’s looking for potential customers there.”

“Those people would know that the dirty dozen were all dead or in custody though,” said Tara. “Who’d hire an assassin with that kind of heat on them?”

“Keep looking anyway,” said Hotch, “she needs money and resources and she’s likely to look in familiar places for those. Now-“

“Emily we need to come up with a strategy. If we can’t go to the media then we need to track her down another way.” JJ turned to Emily.

_Thanks JJ, super subtle._

“Cat likes helpers,” said Emily, “the bomber, Lindsey, Wilkins. She finds people to do her dirty work so that she can go straight to the target of her rage.”

“With Reid yes,” said Hotch. “We have no evidence she worked that way as a hit woman.”

“But it would mean that she doesn’t have to show her face as much,” said Tara.

“She’s a master manipulator though,” Luke ran is hands through his hair. “We have no way of narrowing down who she could target. Or where.”

“Luke could you do a geoprofile?” asked Emily, “She’s on the run so you’re the one most likely to predict her movements.”

“On it.”

“JJ, Tara can you go to the prison and interview the guards about Cat Adam’s routine while she was locked up? There may be something in her cell that can help,” said Hotch. Emily studied her nails as she felt their eyes on her. There was a hushed affirmation followed by the moving around of chairs as everyone left the room. It was just she and Hotch.

“Just for clarity,” she began, “who’s in charge of this team right now?”

“Emily-“

“Because we won’t get anywhere if there are two people giving orders. At best it’s confusing, at worst its dangerous and I already lost one agent. I will not lose any more.” Hotch moved to sit beside her and Emily resisted the urge to pull away.

“We haven’t lost Reid yet.”

“You haven’t lost anyone. You walked out on them.” The words came before Emily could stop them and Hotch flinched like he’d been slapped.

“That’s not fair.”

It wasn’t and Emily knew that but in that moment she didn’t care. She’d been fine in London with her new job and her new boyfriend and her new life where she didn’t have to constantly confront the scars of her old one and then that message from the FBI changed everything. As far as she was concerned what Hotch had done was emotional blackmail. He knew the team would never accept an outsider leading them, no matter what they might say and so here she was trying to stop the team falling apart. Hotch couldn’t have known what was going to happen but it still killed that after all she had done to get Reid out of prison and keep them moving on she’d had her authority completely undermined.

It wasn’t possible to put that into words though so instead she just stood there with a twisted scowl on her face, seething at Hotch.

“If this is about what happened before you left the team…” he began

“Oh fuck this,” Emily threw up her hands. “Okay you win. You’re leading the team, you’re calling the shots. I don’t care anymore I just want this to be over. I want Reid home safe. Can you do that?”

“I…yes.”

“Without killing him or ruining his life?” Emily added before she could stop herself. Another flinch. Good, she though savagely, he needed to hurt as much as they had.

* * *

Spencer couldn’t bear to aimlessly wander the streets of local towns anymore so he had decided on a different tactic and headed to the library to see what information they had on the local area. He was interested in the last fifteen to twenty years specifically so the books on Oakville’s founding or the building of the railways through Rockview, New Quarry, and Marywood were of little use. Newspapers would be a good place to start but there was a chance his target was lying low and hadn’t attracted attention.

He had almost zero chance of finding Cat and Spencer knew it. After his mother’s funeral the germ of an idea had sprouted in his head and spread like wildfire. The one person Cat wanted to hurt more than him was her father and so here he was in Daniel Adams’ old hometown. He’d gotten married here, raised his daughter here and then he’d killed his wife here and set Cat on the path to becoming a vicious psychopath here.

There was a chance he was wrong and Daniel had gone somewhere else after returning to the US from Europe but one of the first things he’d learned from Luke was that fugitives stayed close to home.

Stepping into the library, Spencer let the hot water soothe his aching muscles and his mind began to drift. Did he know what Cat had become? Would he be repulsed or proud or terrified?

There was an old microfiche reader in the back of building that the kindly librarian let him use. Spencer convinced him he was a writer working on a book about small towns and the man had been eager to help.

There hadn’t been any major crimes committed in that time period. Spencer specifically looked for reports of fatal instances of domestic violence and when that yielded nothing he looked for missing women. Again there was nothing. He drummed his fingers absentmindedly on the machine.

“Not a serial offender,” he murmured under his breath, “but still a creature of habit?” It was hopeless. The problem was he didn’t really know what he was looking for. After hours and hours of scanning pages he gave up and thanked the librarian for his help.

The dark mood lifted slightly as he returned to The Inn and saw you sitting behind the front desk with an easy smile.

“You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders,” you said, head tilted in sympathy.

“Just frustrated,” shrugged Spencer. He could feel the ghost of your finger on his lips, the warmth of your skin. Without thinking his tongue swiped his lip as the memory surfaced. He knew it was a distraction he couldn’t afford right now and yet…

“Well if it helps I asked Sammy if he could sit and chat with you, maybe answer some of your questions.” Spencer’s eyes lit up. He tried to dampen his expectations but it was difficult. He knew he was close, he knew he was in the right part of the world.

You ended up coming with him, which Spencer found he didn’t mind. He was still guarded about what he wanted to reveal to strangers but having you there felt oddly reassuring.

“Hey kiddo,” Sammy put down his paper as you and Spencer took a seat. Niamh had brought over a couple of plates of cheesy fries and some beers while you chatted. Spencer had skipped lunch so he devoured a few first and then gave you and Sammy an apologetic look.

“These are the best fries in the tri-state area,” Sammy held one up proudly, “eat them as fast and as messy as you like.”

“Y/N says you’ve lived here a while.”

“Almost twenty years,” Sammy nodded. “It’s changed a lot. People got poorer, when the local mine collapsed a lot of people left for the city but there’s a push to rejuvenate.”

“A family friend is from the area,” said Spencer. “He left, got into some trouble and moved abroad but I think he came back around ten or fifteen years ago.”

Sammy glanced at you and then back to Spencer.

“No address?”

“Honestly we lost touch when he left the country,” said Spencer, “but I need to find him. Pass on some bad news about his daughter.” You were studying Spencer; he could feel your gaze on him. Perhaps you could tell this was a lie, just like you had been able to the night before. In all honesty it was the best excuse he could think of to be looking for someone and it wasn’t entirely false.

“What’s his name?”

“Daniel Adams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fulfils my "lying" Criminal Minds Bingo square.


	3. Chapter 3

“What’s his name?”

“Daniel Adams.”

Sammy scratched his neck thoughtfully.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, “ he said, “It’s a common name though. Anything else about him?” Not -Thomas paused, and you could see he was weighing up how much to offer.

“He liked a drink,” he said eventually, “he liked to drink a lot. After his wife died he spiralled a little."

“What was his wife’s name?” you asked. It must have been obvious you had been listening intently throughout the whole exchange. You found yourself being drawn in to his mystery. The story about a family friend was bullshit obviously but when the daughter was mentioned you noticed a spark in his eyes. Perhaps she was someone special to him? The thought gnawed at you, which was a little embarrassing. You had to keep reminding yourself he was a stranger.

“Susan. Susan Adams,” Thomas said. No spark of recognition from you and the disappointment was obvious.

“If he was a drinker he must have had a favourite bar,” you mused, “The Gold Star has only been open about seven years but Sullivan’s in Mount Jackson has been around for decades. You got a photo of this guy you could stick up in there?” Spencer shook his head. “Ah well. Maybe you could give them his name?”

“Jack’s is another one,” said Sammy, “actually if this guy liked the hard stuff that might be your best bet.” Spencer scribbled down the addresses to both and thanked you and Sammy. It wasn’t much but considering he was looking for a needle in a pile of needles he’d take it.

“How bad?” Sammy asked as Thomas got up to leave.

“Huh?”

“You said you had bad news to give this guy. How bad?”

A strange look passed over Thomas’ face and he paused at the table like he was carefully considering his answer.

“It’ s a long story,” he said finally, “She…got herself into some trouble and it might come back to him.” At first the cryptic answer puzzled you but then you saw his hands, clenched into fists.

This woman wasn’t special to him at least not in a romantic way. With a chill rippling across your skin you realised he hated this woman.

“Thanks for helping Sammy,” Thomas added before hurrying out of the dining room. You gave your own quick thanks and rushed after him.

He looked surprised you walked with him to the foyer and paused by the front desk. Also like he had forgotten you were there. Clearly there was something going on in that brain of his.

“I have a day off tomorrow,” you said, “how about I show you where Sullivan’s and Jack’s are?”

“That’s kind…” Thomas said slowly, “but-“

“I know you’ve got your secrets but something tells me that you’re treading a dangerous line,” you folded your arms across your chest. “You could do with back up.”

“I could do with not putting a target on a random woman’s back, I can handle myself,” Thomas said shortly. “Goodnight.” He didn’t even give you a chance to answer back before leaving.

“You okay?” Laurie came up behind you, concern on her face. “That guy bothering you?”

“Oh no!” you smiled, “he just had a query I couldn’t help with.”

“You’re too nice, that’s your problem,” Laurie frowned, looking far older than her years. “Someone’s likely to take advantage of that.” You smiled at her.

“You’re sweet, but I can handle myself.”

* * *

“You look terrible Emily you need to go home,” JJ said, leaning in the doorway of her office. “You can’t help Spencer if you burn out.”

“I don’t feel like I can help Spence at all,” Emily said thickly, “I let him down. No JJ-“ she held up a hand to stop the inevitable protests, “I did. I should have known Lindsey wasn’t suicidal and had rigged the explosives so she could escape-“

“But she fucked that up,” said JJ, “and when she wakes up we can question her.”

“And if she doesn’t?” The question hung in the air between them and as soon as it left her lips Emily regretted asking it. The truth was they were thrashing around in the dark.

“We endure,” JJ said softly as she left, “we always do. Spencer always does.”

But prison had almost broken him. They had barely got him out alive and then they had let Diana die. Emily wouldn’t kid herself that the team were a strong enough tether to keep him from doing something reckless.

Not that Emily could blame him. Who wouldn’t want Cat dead after that? Her mind wandered back to the final time she had been with Spencer before he disappeared. The week between Diana’s death and funeral he’d been like a zombie, staring into space and responding to questions with one-word answers.

Half the team had been in hospital but Emily had made sure the rest of them took turns to watch Spencer. He forgot to eat or shower unless they prompted him and he never slept more than thirty minutes at a time, waking up thrashing and screaming, scratching at his arms and face.

He’d drawn blood that last time and for a moment Emily had been reminded of the track marks she’d glimpsed on his arms a decade earlier.

“If you kill yourself I’ll never forgive you,” Emily said aloud to the empty office. In an odd way it helped to say them out loud, like the universe could carry them to Spencer.

If only it worked like that. The emails and texts and voice messages had gone unanswered. Of course Spencer would stay off the grid. That’s how he liked things when he was doing his day job.

_Though I guess you still are._

“Idiot…stupid…argh!” Emily could have screamed as a spark of realisation lit up in her brain.

She sent out a quick text to the text and then charged to the roundtable room.

JJ arrived first, having not even made it to the parking lot.

“Emily?”

“I can’t believe I was so stupid. The obvious strategy was in front of us the entire time!” Emily said bringing various file and documents up on screen faster than JJ could process them.

“What are you-“

“We’re profiling the wrong person,” Emily spun around, eyes gleaming. “We shouldn’t be profiling Cat. We should be profiling Spencer!”

* * *

He’d been rude to you and Spencer hated that. Not only would your knowledge of the local area help, but also despite all instincts telling him otherwise, he wanted to spend time with you.

It was crazy, he knew it was crazy. For months since the show down at the prison his only focus had been to find Cat and make her pay. But he was desperate for connection, real human connection. He’d barely had it when he was in prison. The visits from the team had been like breadcrumbs to a starving man but it had been something. Now he was totally alone and your smile filled him with agony. What made it worse was that every time he spoke to you he was lying. Duplicity didn’t come naturally to Spencer though he was automatically guarded with strangers. Lying was something else entirely.

Spencer took a scalding hot shower, half as a distraction, and half to soothe his aching muscles and tired body. He desperately needed rest but he dreaded sleeping. It was a familiar feeling that made the skin on his arms itch where the ghosts of needle marks were. They weren’t visible anymore but Spencer could see them exactly as they were a decade ago.

If he wandered around the streets long enough he could probably pick something up but if he did that Cat would win. Instead Spencer would recite formula in his head until he drifted off.

The sheets had been changed and he revelled in the clean, soft feeling, letting the numbers flit across his mind, interacting and changing and growing. Slowly they began to disperse like the wind was blowing them away.

_The room was dark and he was tied to a chair, sweating and bleeding. There were voices behind him and a light flickering on and off._

_Luis._

_Nathan._

_Amanda._

_Blake._

_Elle._

_Morgan._

_Tobias._

_Their voices would merge into one another and then one would rise up, followed by a different one and then he would lose track. They were crying and talking nonsense like his mother would when she was having a bad time. He heard song lyrics and snatches of poetry and definitions of words he’d ask her to look up for him._

_Something soft was over his head and he couldn’t breathe and couldn’t see and if Spencer could just move but the chains were getting tighter._

“Thomas?”

Spencer shot up, drenched is sweat and breathing so hard he thought his lungs would explode. You looked at him with concern.

“Should we call a doctor or something?” He didn’t recognise the voice or the figure silhouetted in the doorway. He was in his room at The Inn, he was safe.

“No Amy-Beth I think he’s okay…right?” Spencer nodded, though “okay” felt like something of an overstatement. “You clock out early, I can take care of this.” The figure, now obviously a young woman paused a moment before leaving and the room became dark again. Involuntarily, Spencer screwed his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry for barging in-“ Spencer heard the click of the bedside lamp, “another guest heard shouting and crying and we thought you might be hurt.”

“I’m so sorry…” Spencer wheezed. When he opened his eyes it took a moment to adjust. You looked less frightened now, your face bathed in the orange glow of the light and your lips pulled into a small smile.

“No need to apologise, we all have nightmares.”

“No I’m sorry for being so rude earlier,” Spencer shook his head. “You’ve been nothing but kind and I am so grateful.” You bit your lip, eyes cast downwards, and Spencer felt his chest tighten. You nodded and rose to leave, murmuring a goodnight but before you could Spencer grabbed your hand.

He hadn’t expected to, it was like a reflex and he was all too aware of how clammy his touch must have been.

“It’s going to sound stupid,” Spencer said thickly. He swallowed and took a moment. “Could you sit here a little while? Please.” You blinked and he was sure you would refuse. It’s highly inappropriate for one thing and for another he’s probably coming across like a lunatic.

“I can do that,” you settled down on the edge of his bed and Spencer moved across to give you more room. You paused. “Just sitting?”

“Yes,” Spencer flushed red, “and maybe some talking.” You stifled a laugh and then moved further onto the bed.

“You want to talk about your dream?” Spencer looked away sharply, shaking his head. His throat felt too tight to answer. “What do you want to talk about?” Spencer tilted his head, thinking. He’d already asked you about your life the other night. You’d given it all freely but he worried that asking more of you might be prying too much.

“How long has The Inn been in your family?” he asked instead.

“Um, my grandparents bought it just after the war when they got married and I think it was originally built in the 20s. It was kind of run down but my Grandpa fell in love with it as soon as he saw it so they did it up. They always said it was like another child to them. I think that’s why people still like coming here.”

Spencer rolled over slightly and shifted downward, propping himself up on his elbow.

“How do you mean?”

“You know how people say that building have souls?” Or like the memories of what’s happened can stick to it? It’s like that. All the love they poured into this place got soaked up in the walls and it’s part of it now.” Your eyes lit up as you spoke, hands clasps like in prayer. A sleepy, smile crept onto Spencer’s face and you couldn’t help but smile back. “It must sound silly.”

“Not at all. The parietal cortex in our brains uses all our senses to build memory. Everything exists within a context so it stands to reason that all the sensory remnants from the past sixty to seventy years would impact people coming here.” You raised your eyebrows but shuffled down to listen more intently. “It’s why smell and taste can be used so effectively to jog memory. There have been attempts to treat patients with dementia with...” The words got stuck as he remembered the article he was quoting. It was one of thousands he had read, desperate to find a way to help his mother. Not only had he not been able to help her but he’d gotten her killed.

A warm hand over his brought him back.

“Who did you lose?” you asked softly. For a moment he considered not answered but he was so sick of being so disconnected, of lying and concealing. It’s what had gotten him arrested, gotten his mother killed.

“My mom.”

“She got sick?” Spencer took a deep breath.

“It’s complicated. She was schizophrenic and she had been dealing with that most of my life and then last year she began to deteriorate and was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I tried to help her but I couldn’t.”

“I know you tried your best. I can see it in your eyes,” you said, “but there’s something else.”

“She was killed.” He waited for your response. Pain flashed across your face, the specific kind of pain that came from an intimate knowledge of trauma. He wasn’t the only person who had lost someone.

“By Daniel Adams’ daughter. That’s why you want to find him right? To find her?”

Spencer almost laughed. Or cried. He wasn’t sure what to make of you and your amateur but accurate profiling of him.

“You’re very perceptive you know that?”

“Force of habit. I watch people all day every day and when you were telling Sammy about her you were…furious.”

“I am,” Spencer said softly. “It scares me how angry I am. I feel like I’m burning from the inside out.”

“Are you going to kill her?”

In truth Spencer didn’t know. Cat had wanted so badly to prove they were the same and maybe this would show her she was right. Hotch had said once that everyone was capable of doing terrible things and then he had beaten Foyet to death with his bare hands.

No one had judged Hotch for that but it had been done in the heat of the moment. The hate inside Spencer had built up over the months since his mother’s murder.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead.

“For what?” you asked.

“Bringing all this here to you,” Spencer closed his eyes, “dumping all this…misery on you.”

“There’s no need to apologise Thomas.”

“Spencer,” he opened his eyes. This could be a terrible mistake but right then he didn’t care one bit. He needed to feel real, to feel connected to this moment, to another person.

“Spencer.” You smiled as you repeated his name back to him and he loved the way it sounded. “Goodnight Spencer.”

For the first time in months there were no bad dreams. There were no good dreams either just a sense of falling and then rising as the sunlight broke through a gap in the curtains. To his surprise you were still there, eyes opening sleepily.

“Thank you for staying,” he murmured. You rose with a soft smile. The confessions from last night weren’t remarked on and he was grateful for that. He was also grateful for feeling just a little bit lighter.

“My offer to visit those bars still stands,” you said; hand on the door as you prepared to leave. Spencer took a steadying breath and got up from the bed. He hadn’t wanted this to happen.

“I don’t need to look for Daniel Adams anymore. I met him last night”

“Wait what?”

“You introduced me to him – Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is also an entry for Criminal Minds Bingo 2020. It fulfils my "Emily and JJ" square.


	4. Chapter 4

“I don’t need to look for Daniel Adams anymore. I met him last night”

“Wait what?”

“You introduced me to him – Sammy.”

You wanted to laugh. It was a joke; it had to be a joke. You’d known Sammy for nearly twenty years so there was no way he could be Daniel Adams. He’d never mentioned a daughter for one thing and you’d never seen him so much as sniff alcohol so… You shook your head violently. No. It had to be a mistake.

But the look on Spencer’s face was deadly serious though his eyes softened as you became more distressed.

“His body language showed he was nervous-“

“A stranger was questioning him!”

“He tried to suggest other bars to go to when you told him the most likely one. Then he asked about what the information was that I needed to pass on. Y/N I’m sorry but Sammy has been lying to you about who he is.”

“If his daughter’s some kind of homicidal maniac then that’s no surprise!” You threw up your hands, your whole body trembling. You had to lean against the door to steady yourself. Spencer approached cautiously, like he was cornering a wounded animal. The thought made you feel worse and your eyes began to sting.

“She was hit woman that seduced men before killing them.” The words didn’t match the gentle tone in which he spoke them. “Cat hates men because she watched her father kill her mother and then get away with it.”

“No!” The tears did come then. There was no way Sammy – who had comforted you when your Grandmother died, who taught you how to fix a leaky pipe and who loved watching old western movies with you and Niamh – could have done something so terrible.

“I’m sorry.” He was sorry, and that made it hurt all the more. You didn’t want him to touch you then so you shifted away from the outreached hand and wiped your eyes.

“Are you going to kill him?” you asked in a shaky voice. Spencer frowned like he hadn’t even considered the possibility.

“No I need to warn him,” he explained, “I think Cat’s looking for him, he’s in danger. You all are. All she’s wanted her whole life is to get revenge on him and she won’t hesitate to hurt anyone in her way.” You tried to slow your breathing down but panic was rapidly rising inside you. How could the world have turned upside down in such a short time? You thought of Niamh, Amy-Beth and Laurie. You had a responsibility to them.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said to yourself rather than Spencer, “oh my god I don’t know what to do.” You looked at him, for some reason expecting a panic in him that mirrored your own but it was the most assured and confident you had ever seen him. Not for the first time you found yourself wondering who the hell this guy was.

“You’re going to do nothing for now,” Spencer said. “It’s really important that to anyone outside it looks like business as usual. Trust me,” he added as you opened your mouth to argue. “I need to speak to Sammy again. Can you persuade him to sit down with me?”

“I don’t know. He knows you’re looking for him now! What am I supposed to say? Spencer I’m a shit liar.” The panic was rising again and you pressed your back to the door even harder to stop your legs giving way.

“That’s okay. We’ll approach him together, somewhere in public where he can’t make a scene and then I’ll bring him up here. I think if you’re with me he’ll listen.” You thought for a moment. What if Spencer was making the whole thing up? What if he really did want to kill Sammy – Daniel? What ifs ran through your head like a high-speed train.

Spencer reached out again and this time you let him take your hands. They were warm and his grip was firm. As he gave your fingers a squeeze you felt your heartbeat slow.

“You have good instincts,” Spencer smiled at you. “You can read people well and I know you’re scared right now but trust those instincts. You’re strong.”

“I don’t feel strong,” you admitted before you could stop yourself. The look that flashed across his eyes was a mixture of understanding and pain. Sometime recently he had felt this way too. You took a deep breath “Okay, I’m ready. I can do this. Give me ten or so minutes to go down stairs and set up for breakfast. Sammy will probably be there until we start clearing up. We can confront him then.”

“Okay.” Spencer let go of your hands and you were a little taken aback at how much you missed the comfort of skin on skin. There was no time to dwell on that however. You just had to hope that no one would spot you leaving his room in this state. You smoothed your hair down and straightened your clothes before leaving.

* * *

The entire team was exhausted physically and emotionally but as the sun rose Emily felt like they may have actually found the answer. Reid’s desk had been a dead end so with some persuading JJ had let Emily and Hotch into Spencer’s apartment. Tara and Rossi still weren’t cleared for the field so they stayed at Quantico with Garcia and Luke to re-examine Cat’s file and look for things that would have stuck out to Reid.

“This feels so wrong,” JJ shuddered as she cast her eyes over the chaos of Reid’s study-cum-living room. It felt like when she’d had to examine Gideon’s belongings after his murder. The thought of that happening again was too much to bear so without a word to the others she headed to the bedroom to see what had been packed.

Hotch and Emily were left standing there awkwardly, doing everything in their power to avoid eye contact.

“I’ll take the desk?” Hotch pointed after the tension became too much to bear. Emily shrugged and ambled over to the coffee table. Diana’s scrapbook was still there, complete with Lindsey’s additions. Other personal items were there too like photographs, gifts from the team over the years, the lock picking set he’d been obsessed with when she first joined the team and some knitting projects Garcia had helped him with.

“What is it?” Hotch asked.

“Nothing personal is missing. Nothing of his or Diana’s. Hey JJ?”

“I heard you,” she stuck her head round the door. “Clothes and toiletries are gone but I think that’s it.” In one swift movement she crossed to the bookshelf by the window and to her dismay she found Maeve’s photo and the book she had gifted him years ago. “I thought he’d at least take this.”

“He’s on a mission,” said Hotch, “ he won’t take anything sentimental.”

“Because he knows he’s coming back,” said JJ, “right?” There was a sickening silence. Emily had to ripe her gaze away from the smiling Reid in the childhood photos. Her gaze instead landed on a gap in the shelf behind the desk.

“He took something,” she pointed, “what was there?”

“A file I think,” Hotch frowned. He looked around and then picked something up from the desk, a dark blue binder. Emily’s heart sank. It wasn’t a clue then after all it- “There’s still things in here. It must have been the last thing Reid looked at before leaving.” Emily snatched the binder from Hotch’s hands. There were only a few scraps of paper left.

“Looks like a phone bill from the mid-90s,” Emily laid the first piece of paper out on the table. “It’s in French... What the-?” The final piece was a photocopy of the obituary section of a local newspaper. One small segment was circled three times in red.

“ RIP Susan Adams. Susan passed away peacefully at her home in DC. She is survived by her husband Daniel and her daughter Catherine. May the angels take care of you dear one” JJ read over Emily’s shoulder. “Peacefully seems like an odd way to describe being murdered in cold blood.”

“Cat will go after her father. It’s so fucking obvious! Reid’s tracking him down. We need to get back to Quantico and try and catch up with him.”

“I’ll see if there are more clues here,” said JJ. Emily wanted to protest but time was of the essence. They needed to get to Reid.

“He could be wrong,” Hotch sat in the driver’s seat on the journey back to Quantico. Emily bunched her fists in her lap. She had hoped they could make it the whole way without speaking. She should have known Hotch wouldn’t let her.

“Does that matter? We need to find him. Reid thinks Cat is tracking down her father so we need to do the same so we can bring him home.”

“We also need to bring Cat to justice. If she’s free then there will be a cloud hanging over Reid. His career-“

“God damn it! Is that all you care about?” Emily snapped. “He just got out of prison where he was beaten within an inch of his life. Where he saw his friend murdered in front of him and he had to do things to survive you can’t imagine. You’re really worried about his career?”

The car screeched to a halt as Hotch slammed his foot on the break. Emily half expected him to start yelling but when he turned to her his voice was low and deadly.

“I am worried about his career because losing that, losing his family is what will kill him. He could survive prison because he needed to get out and reunite with his mother. He survived her death because he had us. He has a purpose as an FBI agent. If he loses us then what else does he have?”

At some point Emily realised, she has started crying. The tears were hot and angry.

“You-“

“Care Emily. I care so much. I let him down once before after Hankel. I let you down with Doyle and JJ with the DOJ and Tivon Askari. I let Gideon down and Morgan down and I’ll be damned if I let Reid down.” For a moment they just stared it each other. Emily was still weeping though she wasn’t sure who for anymore.

“God after all these years I would have thought you’d be better as this,” she sniffed, “why the hell didn’t you say that when you first got here?”

“Would you have listened?”

“Yes!” Emily cried. “Always Aaron! The problem was you never tried to talk to me. The first I heard that you were targeted by Scratch was when the Director contacted Interpol to transfer me. Do you know how much it hurt not to hear that from you?” Hotch’s eyes soften though his mouth remained in a firm line. It had taken Emily years to notice the subtle changes in his expression that betrayed a hurricane of emotions undetectable on the surface. It was too much and Emily dropped her gaze to her hands.

“I wanted to believe me,” Hotch said quietly. “I wasn’t given a choice about it. Jack and I were literally swept away in the night. I couldn’t speak to anyone about it. And yes,” Hotch reached out and touched Emily’s shoulder, causing her to look up at him, “I know now how awful it must have been for you when you woke up from being attacked by Doyle and found out what JJ and I had done.”

Emily nodded. If she said anything she was likely to start crying again. Truthfully she had forgiven him for that but it had taken a long time. No matter how grateful she was that he saved her life (and she was grateful) it was dwarfed by the devastating lack of control she had felt.

“I don’t want to fight with you Emily. I know you must hate this and I’m not trying to take command off you.”

“I know. Remember what you said when Reid was taken by Hankel? You never put yourself before this team,” Emily said. “I trust you. I trust you to find Reid and help us bring him home safely.”

“So let’s do that.”

* * *

Spencer watched as you cornered Daniel Adams in the dining room. You gestured towards him, a tight smile on your face. Daniel turned and as soon as they locked eyes he must have known. Within moments Spencer had crossed the room and barred Daniel from leaving. A few diners glanced their way, curious but not curious enough to stop eating.

“Please don’t make a scene,” Spencer said, evenly.

“Sammy?” You looked like you were about to cry. Spencer’s chest constricted, the last thing he wanted to do was cause anyone pain.

Except Cat.

Daniel looked torn too. His eyes flicked between you and Spencer and his expression between grief and resignation. Daniel had been expecting this, Spencer realised, he knew one day his past would catch up with him. The more important thing it told Spencer though, was that he cared about you.

“Okay,” he closed his eyes, “but not here.”

They ended up in Spencer’s room. Daniel sat on the bed with you, and Spencer stood, arms folded in front of him. This is an interrogation, he kept telling himself, Daniel Adams was an unsub that he needed to get information out of.

It was difficult with you there though. You clasped your hands in your lap, a betrayed look painting your features.

“You a cop?” Daniel asked, “you don’t look like a cop but you talk like one.”

“Has Cat contacted you?” Spencer didn’t want to be side tracked. Daniel’s gaze dropped to the floor and he shook his head. “When did you last see her?”

“When CPS took her away.”

“So you don’t know what happened to her since then?”

Daniel looked up, brow furrowed.

“There were nice people I figured-“

“The foster father was a child molester. Cat killed him when she was thirteen then she decided to make a career as a hit woman. She specialised in seducing men to get close to them.”

“No she wouldn’t!” Spencer laughed in response, the sound loud and harsh. You and Daniel jumped at the sound.

“Her kill count is in the hundreds,” he said. It was impossible to keep the venom from his voice and Daniel shrunk away. “She also targeted an FBI analyst who was tracking her, took hostages in a restaurant and threatened to blow up a block full of innocent people when they attempted to arrest her.”

“Oh my god,” you moved off the bed and to the door, steadying your self on the frame. With a glance over to check you were okay Spencer continued.

“After she was imprisoned she used an accomplice to frame an FBI agent for the murder of an innocent woman, she seduced a prison guard so she could blackmail him into abusing his position. She abducted and murdered a vulnerable woman with Alzeimer’s!”

“Stop please!”

“Now she’s escaped from prison. The prison guard is dead, her lawyer is dead, her girlfriend/accomplice is in a coma, another FBI Agent is in the ICU and half a dozen more were injured!”

“I didn’t know,” Daniel begged. “I thought she would be okay with those people. I thought the courts would make sure she was taken care of!”

“She’s coming here.” Spencer ignored Daniel’s sobs even though a small part of him almost felt sympathy for the man. “You’re the man she’s wanted to kill her whole life, all those other people were surrogates for you. This is my one chance to stop her for good and you’re going to help me.”

“H-how? I swear to God I haven’t heard from her in years,” Daniel sobbed.

“I’m using you as bait.”


	5. Chapter 5

“This is my one chance to stop her for good and you’re going to help me.”

“H-how? I swear to God I haven’t heard from her in years.” Sammy’s sobs cut through you like a knife. No not Sammy…Daniel. Daniel Adams, wife killer and father of a hit woman that had done things that made your skin crawl.

“I’m using you as bait.”

You had to turn around at that. Throughout most of the conversation you had stood facing the door. You couldn’t bear to look at either Daniel or Spencer while the accusations were flying but Spencer’s matter of fact tone compelled you to speak up.

“Seriously? You want to use him to lure out this psychopath?” you gasped. “What if you can’t stop her, what if you get him killed?”

“He’ll be fine,” Spencer said dismissively, “I’ll take better care of him than he did his family.” The words landed like a slap and for a moment there was a strained silence in the room.

“I swear to god-“

“Stop saying that!” snapped Spencer. “Cat won’t make a move directly, she’ll use an accomplice. Someone she can manipulate, someone vulnerable. Her last one was a woman she was in a relationship with who had a traumatic upbringing she could exploit.”

Your blood ran cold at Spencer’s words and a shiver ran across your skin. He looked at you questioningly.

“It might be nothing-“

“You don’t think that,” said Spencer. His tone softened as he turned away from Daniel and towards you. “Your gut is telling you something right now.”

“Laurie, one of the girls who works here, she just got a new girlfriend. She…she’s had a rough time in the past but she’s super sweet and trusting and-“ The tears returned. Laurie was alike a sister to you and the thought of her being hurt made your stomach twist painfully. “We have to make sure she’s okay, please!”

Spencer nodded and then pulled open one of the dresser drawers. Under some neatly folded clothes was a gun that he tucked into his waistband. Your breath caught in your throat. It was all too raw, to real.

“Are you going to kill my daughter?” Daniel asked. He was oddly calm. Spencer looked at him unblinkingly for a moment, his face unreadable.

“Did you kill you wife?” he asked instead of answering the question. Daniel swallowed before speaking but never broke eye contact.

“I don’t know. I was drinking, it was hazy. We were fighting about something then when I sobered up she was dead.” It was like listening to stranger. The man you knew would never have done something so terrible.

But of course you hadn’t known him. Not really.

“Cat is convinced you did,” Spencer said. He looked Daniel up and down before speaking again. “You need to stay here. Is there a weapon on the property?”

“No of course not,” you gasped, “and shouldn’t he come with us? He’ll be safer with you.”

“Letting Cat know we can take her to her father may be the only way we can bargain for Laurie’s safety. Otherwise she has nothing to lose and she will hurt her.” You couldn’t let that happen so reluctantly you followed Spencer out, leaving Daniel to lock himself in Spencer’s room with strict instructions not to let anyone else in until you returned.

You let Niamh know you had to run out for a few hours but didn’t say why. She was happy to hold down the fort and didn’t ask any questions for once, which you were thankful for. You weren’t sure you could organise your thoughts well enough to give an answer.

“I am sorry about all this,” Spencer said as you drove to Laurie’s apartment in Marywood. You wanted to say it was fine but that would be a lie. You knew this Cat woman would have come anyway whether Spencer was here or not but then you’d have no warning and Laurie would still be in danger. Still, it was frightening, more frightening than anything else you had ever experienced in your life.

“Who are you?” you asked. “Sa-Daniel asked if you were a cop but cops don’t talk or act like you. You’re going to kill Cat if you can aren’t you?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Spencer took a deep breath. “Prison didn’t exactly stick the first time and she can’t be allowed to hurt anyone else. Conventional methods won’t work here.”

* * *

“So there isn’t much on Daniel Adams.” Garcia looked close to tearing her hair out. “I went over the information Reid gave Cat the first time they met but it was all a lie. He said Daniel went abroad and came back in 2012 but he seemed to have pulled that out of thin air. I can’t see how he got it.”

They were crowded around the roundtable with the files of Cat spread out before them. Her smirk taunted them from various pictures and the screen above them. Emily was outside on the phone but with her blessing Hotch had filled them all in.

“There’s also nothing in the file,” sighed Luke, “Reid took everything of use.”

“Not everything.” Emily strode back in. There was an almost wild glint in her eye. “The phone log that was left in the file was in French so I figured that Reid thought that he was hiding in France for sometime. I got my colleagues in Interpol to chase down the phone and it was registered to a Daniel Harrison who lived in Lille for a few years in the late 90s. A few arrests for drunken bar fights but other than that Daniel Harrison kept to himself. Drove trucks across Europe for a haulage company until one day he quit and basically disappeared.”

“He came back to the States,” said Luke. “Fugitives always return home. Garcia-“

“Don’t even finish that sentence newbie.” Garcia’s fingers flew across her keyboard and Daniel Adams’ early life flew up to the screen.

“He was born in Mount Williams. Was Cat born there?” Hotch asked.

“No her birth was registered in nearby Oakville, as was her parents’ marriage. The two towns are really close though.”

“He’ll stick close to home but not so close as to raises suspicion,” said Luke. “Towns in this area often draw a lot of tourists because of the hiking trails right?”

“Geographical profiles were Spencer’s forte,” said Rossi, “even with as little information as this he would be confident about Adams being in the area. Maybe he went in as a tourist. He could hole up somewhere and try and find him with no suspecting him.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” said Emily. “Rossi and Tara you still aren’t cleared for the field. Can you guys stay here with Garcia and see if you can refine the geo profile? We should also reach out to the locals.” They all started to move, whether to grab files or go bags. To Emily the air seemed to crackle. They were closing in, she could feel it.

“We can’t raise the alarm about Cat. Barnes will shut us down.” Hotch warned as they headed to the parking garage. Emily grinned at him.

“Daniel Adams is the fugitive. Kind of. They didn’t say anything about not raising the alarm about him,” she said.

“I just hope we make it to him before Cat does,” said JJ, sliding into the passenger seat, “and we can finally stop her this time.”

The drive was tense. They carried on liaising with Garcia but apart from that no-one spoke. For Emily at least, it was the endless stream of worst-case scenarios that were running through her head. Cat could kill her father and disappear, haunting them like a ghost indefinitely. Spencer could disappear after her. Or Cat could kill Spencer, luring him into a trap. Or she could do something worse.

It all went round and around Emily’s head. Eventually she had to crack a window, hoping the fresh air would calm the rising nausea.

“It’s going to be okay,” Hotch said quietly. Emily wasn’t sure who he was reassuring. Just then her phone rang.

“Garcia?”

“So something weird is happening with Oakville PD. It’s a small department but every officer has been called to an incident at a local guesthouse called The Inn. They couldn’t give me any more details and a detective is heading back to the station to talk to you now but…”

“It feels off,” Emily finished. “Can you get a crime report to me? We need to find out if it’s connected.”

“On it Boss Lady!”

For a moment no one spoke though everyone was thinking the same thing. Was it Reid? Were they too late?

* * *

Laurie lived on the edge of Marywood in a shared house, you told Spencer. It looked like a nice place if a little shabby. There were no outward signs of a struggle or a break in; a window upstairs was open and music floated out into the street.

“Is there a plan?” you asked Spencer. In truth there wasn’t but he didn’t want to tell you that. Cat was so unpredictable but she couldn’t have thought he would find her so easily so better to just go in and take her by surprise. His mouth went dry and his heartbeat quickened at the thought.

“I can call Laurie, try and get her out of the house.” Your eyes were glued to the house.

“No Cat will suspect. We should just go and knock. I’m armed, I can control the situation.” Of all the lies he had told, that was the most egregious. Spencer had never felt less control in his life as he walked up to the front door with you. A black girl with a vintage style tea dress answered the door.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” you said nervously, “I’m Y/N-“

“Oh Laurie’s boss!” the girl beamed and then called over her shoulder, “hey babe, your boss here.” Spencer felt his stomach drop.

“Oh you’re Jennie?” You said. “It’s um nice to meet you.”

“Laurie’s told me all about you,” Jennie gushed. Another girl Spencer recognised from The Inn materialised behind her.

“All nice things,” she said with an embarrassed grin. Then her eyes fell on Spencer. You followed her gaze and Spencer shook his head subtly.

It wasn’t Cat. She must have another accomplice. Or maybe he’d got it wrong and she hadn’t found Daniel at all. No. Spencer was sure of that though he couldn’t be sure of anything else.

“So what are you doing here?” Laurie asked. You paled a little at the question.

“Someone delivered a threatening note to The Inn,” Spencer jumped in. “Y/N was worried about you and I offered her a ride to check up on you.”

“Threatening note!” Laurie’s eyes went wide, “oh my god when? Did you call the police?”

“I’m sure it’s someone just goofing around,” you said, “but since you weren’t in today I wanted to be super sure. Any way I’m really sorry for interrupting your day off.”

After a hurried goodbye you and Spencer headed back to the car. He could feel you looking at him as you started up the engine.

“I’m sorry, I thought… I was so sure!” he said. The frustration was threatening to boil over, he could almost hear Cat laughing at him.

“I’m just glad Laurie is okay. I would never have forgiven myself if she were hurt. But I am sorry you didn’t find Cat,” you added in a gentle voice that made Spencer’s chest ache.

“Even if I was going to kill her?” he asked before he could stop himself. You didn’t answer and for the rest of the journey Spencer watched the landscape roll by.

“That was unfair or me to ask,” Spencer said when you were nearly there. “You’ve already gone above and beyond for me.”

“It’s fine it’s-“ you stopped Speaking when you saw the lights of a police car ahead outside of The Inn. No, the lights of several police cars and an ambulance.

Then you saw the body bag on the gurney being wheeled into the back of a black van.

“Oh my god,” you went to drive forward but Spencer put his hand on the wheel. “What are you doing?”

“It’s Cat,” he said. You looked at him in disbelief but he was certain. Just like he was certain who was in that body bag and how it would hit you when you realised.

“Sammy?”

“We need to go in separately.” You were about to protest, he could see the outrage rising in your eyes. “To protect yourself and your family here I need you to pretend that you don’t know who Cat is, just like you didn’t know who Sammy was.”

“That’s crazy!”

“I know and I wouldn’t ask you if there was any other way,” he laid his hand on yours. Silently he promised that if this nightmare ever ended (and he was still alive when it did) he would make it up to you. Your face was hard to read but after a strained silence you nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered before slipping out of the car.

He headed towards the back of the motel but paused to watch you pull up and race towards one of the officers. He took you by the shoulders as you grew more and more frantic and then he said something that made your knees buckle and you fell to the ground.

Your cry of anguish was so loud that Spencer could hear it despite being so far away.


	6. Chapter 6

You weren’t really listening to the officer so you kept missing the questions he asked and all you wanted was to leave and comfort the staff and find Spencer. Everything was spiralling out of control so fast.

Sammy was dead in Spencer’s – Thomas Merton’s – room upstairs. He’d been stabbed twenty-four times you heard a different officer say. He was then shushed and shoved out of the back office you were interviewed in. There were photos of your family through the years on the wall and as you looked at their smiling faces you wondered how the hell they would have coped with all this.

They would have protected your people, you thought. Guilt bubbled up inside you, burning you like acid. It was your job to keep everyone safe and you’d failed.

“Uh Miss,” the officer leaned over you, “the employment files?” Right, that’s why you’d brought him back here. You fumbled around in a filing cabinet for a moment and pulled out a thin file filled with all of Sammy’s performance reports, holiday forms, and wage details. Now it seemed obvious why, despite the fact he’d worked there for twenty years, you knew little about him. Sammy had never talked about his family, only the odd girlfriend from town. He never went out to the bar with you guys so at some point he’d given up the booze. He liked football and baseball and arranged movie nights at The Inn for staff and guests but beyond that you didn’t know a damn thing about him.

“He was a good employee?” the officer asked. You nodded. “He have any problems with anyone?”

“Everyone liked Sammy,” you said, “ he didn’t have a lot of contact with the guests and he was efficient and polite when he did have to fix something for them.”

“Have you had any guests recently that have caused problems or acted up with Sammy or any of the other staff?”

“No, nothing like that.” You wiped your eyes with your sleeve. Spencer must be hiding somewhere, trying to stay away from the cops. You hadn’t seen him since leaving the car and despite everything else you were worried for him. How much did he know about what was going on? You bit your lip. You were woefully out of your depth but if you couldn’t protect Sammy you owed it to him to find out who had hurt him. “Um…do you think it was a guest?” you asked.

If the officer thought it was an odd question he didn’t say but he looked kind of uncomfortable, glancing at the half open door. Outside, more senior officers were talking.

“I just…want to know who hurt him,” you sniffed and hunched over like you were trying to hide inside yourself. Your heart was hammering so hard you felt like your chest was going to burst. “He took care of me, y’know?”

The officer’s face softened and he sat down next to you.

“We aren’t sure but we think based how…we found Sammy that he must have known his killer.”

“What?”

“He opened the door to them, we think they talked for a bit before…” the officer trailed off, patting you awkwardly on the shoulder as you tried to get your head around it. Sammy knew Cat was after him and wanted him dead so would he have let her in the room? She was his daughter but from what Spencer had said that certainly didn’t mean anything to her and after all this time would Sammy ignore his sense of self-preservation even if he was sorry, even if he still loved her?

“I need…I need to rest or something…or…” you stood, shakily. You needed to find Spencer but you couldn’t say that. The police would be looking for him to see why Sammy was in his room. God, maybe they’d think he killed him. It was an awful thought.

“I know this is hard,” said the officer, “but I need you to stick around for a little bit while we sort a few things out. If you want I can leave you alone in her for a bit. Maybe you can get a bit of rest before my colleagues need to ask more questions?”

It sounded terrible but you nodded.

“Before you go, are Niamh and Amy-Beth okay?” you asked.

“They’re fine, just giving statements. You can see them real soon.”

You mumbled thanks to the officer before curling up on the couch in the corner of the office. You couldn’t even cry, all your tears had been shed and you felt empty and numb. You kept seeing Sammy hanging his head in shame as Spencer berated him.

_Did you kill your wife?_

Everything was so disconnected, like random puzzle pieces that didn’t fit together. Then there was you in the centre, scrambling to make sense of it all.

* * *

“Detective Warner?” Emily approached the tired looking man by the crime scene tape. There wasn’t as big a crowd around The Inn as Emily had expected and for that she was relieved. The last thing she wanted was Barnes pulling them off of the case because of the press.

“You’re the FBI guys right?” he eyed Emily and Hotch suspiciously. “My Captain phoned ahead saying you might have a lead for us…”

“We’re from the Behavioural Analysis Unit,” Emily nodded, “we aren’t here to step on any toes but we think that a fugitive we’ve been hunting may be hiding in the area.”

“His name is Daniel Adams. Over thirty years ago his wife died after a suspected domestic dispute and he fled the country after being cleared,” Hotch continued. “We think he came back here.”

Warner beckoned them under the crime scene tape and led them into The Inn. Cops filled the lobby. Some of them were taking statements from staff and others were directing guests back to their rooms. Crime scenes techs filed and an out with evidence bags.

“Our vic,” Warner said with an emphasis on the word ‘our’, “is the handyman here. Samuel “Sammy” Daniels, fifty-seven years old, worked here since 2000. Boss said he was well liked, did his job, never stepped out of line.”

“Where was he found?” asked Emily.

“Look miss-“

“It’s Agent,” Hotch cut in, “specifically Unit Chief Agent Prentiss. I understand that this is your crime scene but we’re here to help.” Emily fought to suppress a smirk as a range of emotions flooded across warner’s face in quick succession.

“That’s what’s weird,” Warner said eventually, squirming under Hotch’s intense gaze. “He was found in one of the guest rooms but the staff said no one reported any issue.”

“Which room?”

Warner crossed to the heck in desk and grabbed the logbook, holding it out to Hotch.

“Room fifteen.” An officer from across the lobby called out for him. “Excuse me.”

“So Sammy Daniels could be Daniel Adams. The age is right, he started working here after Adams left France so-“ Emily stopped. Hotch’s face was white, his lips pressed into a line.

“Thomas Merton.”

“The philosopher?” Emily frowned as Hotch turned to show the logbook to her. Thomas Merton, room fifteen. Checked in four weeks prior.

“When Reid was seeing Maeve they used to send quotes from philosophers to each other. The last one he received from her was by-“

“Thomas Merton. He’s here. Reid’s here!” Any elation she felt was cut short by the realisation that Reid may be there but there was also a dead body in his room, which made him suspect number one.

Again.

“Deja fucking vu,” she hissed under her breath, “we need to find him Hotch.”

Hotch nodded and gave her hand a squeeze. Even he seemed surprised by the gesture and for a moment they just stood there, warm faces and a matching tingle across their skin until Detective Warner called over to them. Neither was sure who pulled away first.

“One of my officers has been interviewing the young woman who runs this place. She’s very distressed and finding it hard to focus. You guys think you can use your uh behavioural analysis to get her to talk?” The distain in his voice was barely concealed and there was nothing Emily wanted more than to lay into him but they were on the clock. Reid needed them.

After a brief pause to text Garcia to dig up everything they could on The Inn, the pair of them went to the back office where you were being comforted by one of the workers, Niamh.

“She seemed like she could use some support,” the young officer said, biting his lip. Emily had to give him that, you looked a wreck. Clearly you and Sammy/Daniel had been close. Niamh had you pulled close to her, one hand stroking her hair.

“It’s going to be okay honey,” she said, soothingly. You seemed to wriggle slightly from her grip.

“I know,” you said, a hint of frustration in your voice, “I just need to rest.”

“My name is Agent Hotchner and this is Agent Prentiss from the FBI, “ Hotch took a seat opposite the couch, “we just have a few questions for you, then you can go.”

“Do you know who did this yet?” Niamh asked.

“Not yet,” said Emily, “we wanted to ask you about the guest in room fifteen.” She took out her phone and swiped along until she found the most recent photo of Reid. It was taken a while before prison. Rossi had thrown a kind of party to welcome Luke to the team one weekend and Emily had snapped a photo of Garcia and Reid. “Is this him?”

“That’s him!” Niamh half shrieked, “you think he did this?”

“Absolutely not,” Emily said before she could stop herself, making everyone except you frown at her.

“He looks different there,” you said, “no facial hair, and smart clothes. He didn’t seem dangerous.”

“He’s not,” Emily cut in, “he could be a witness though which puts him in danger from the killer.”

“Hey wait,” Warner cut in, puffing himself up, “you can’t jump to that conclusion. A man was found dead in this guy’s room, who is he anyway?”

“I need a break,” you announced abruptly, pulling out of Niamh’s grip. “I’ve answered you questions over and over. Please can I go upstairs and rest?”

“Honey-“

“No!” You cut Niamh off, “I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

Hotch stood in the doorway, staring down Warner as Emily raced out of the office after you.

“Miss?” You slowed down before your reached the stairs, eyeing her warily. “I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through right now and I know it seems crazy but I think Sp-Thomas Merton may be in danger. Is there anywhere he went in particular when he left the Inn?” You blinked, your gaze slightly unfocused.

“He said something about doing research when he checked in. I think he went to some of the public libraries.” That made sense, Reid always did feel most useful going through records, zeroing in on the details. “It was a lie though wasn’t it?” you asked Emily. Now it was her turn to be confused. “He’s not a researcher. You know him. Is he with the FBI?”

Emily hesitated.

“If he comes back and we aren’t here can you tell him something for me? Tell him Emily’s here and I’m going to do everything I can to help him. Please?”

You nodded after a moment and then hurried up the stairs. Emily felt a pang in her chest for you. Your world had been upended and it was likely to get even more so when they confirmed Sammy’s real identity.

“Warner’s not happy,” Hotch announced as he strode over. “But his Captain has agreed to let us run the body against Cat’s DNA. We need to find Reid now.”

“Cat must have killed her father which means she’s close,” said Emily, “and she may know Spencer’s here.”

“She won’t make the same mistake twice,” Hotch said quietly, “Cat will kill Spencer if we can’t save him.”

* * *

The hours after you went into The Inn dragged by for Spencer. He considered running off and finding another motel but he needed to stay close and he needed to know what happened to Sammy. Judging by what little of your reaction he had seen, Cat or her accomplice had got to Daniel but the details would let Spencer know how to catch her.

Pre-prison he would never have so casually dismissed a murder victim but Spencer was struggling to drum up any sympathy for Daniel Adams. His wife’s death may have been an accident but he’d caused it and he’d sent Cat down a path that had led to hundreds of deaths. If he was honest there was part of him that blamed the man for his mother’s death, as removed as he was from Cat’s crimes. He’d been the catalyst for her mayhem.

The floor his room was on was packed with cops so he carried on up the back staircase to the staff floor. It was easy enough to pick the lock on your door and then it was just a case of sitting in the dark waiting. Probably not the most considerate idea given how startled you were when you came in and switched the light on, revealing him springing up from your bed.

“Sorry.” He wasn’t sure if he was apologising for making you jump or for the anguish on your face. Your eyes were red and raw from your crying and all he wanted to do was hold you but you looked like you might fall apart or start screaming.

“Emily,” you said thickly.

“Wha-Emily? Emily’s here?” But how-

“Emily said…she’s here and she’s going to help,” you mumbled. “Sammy was killed in your room. The police think you must have done it I guess and I couldn’t say why you were here but Emily and another agent…I didn’t get his name…they were here. They know Thomas Merton is a made up name. They know you.” Your eyes narrowed and your tone became accusatory and Spencer was torn between protesting and trying to work out what you had just said.

“Can I explain?” he asked softly. The look in your eyes reminded Spencer of a cornered animal trying to decide whether to fight its way out. He’d done that to you and it hurt so much.

“You’re an FBI agent?” A tentative feeling of relief bubbled up in Spencer at your words. He sat back down on the bed, scooting to the side so you could sit next to him. After a moment of consideration you did, head down and hands clasped in you lap.

“I know I don’t seem like an FBI Agent,” he said, trying to ease the remainder of the tension, “I was a profiler for ten years. That woman, Agent Prentiss? She’s my boss and a friend.”

“You said Cat Adams framed an agent for murder…that was you wasn’t it? You were in prison?”

“Three months. Cat wanted revenge for me arresting her. I used her father to get to surrender, which…you know about their relationship. When I got released she kidnapped my mother and…” No he couldn’t do this. The thought of what she must have gone through in her final moments would haunt him until he died. You knew all this anyway.

To his surprise you moved closer and wrapped him in a clumsy hug.

“I understand why you want to catch her,” you mumbled, “but you have a team who obviously want to help you do that.” You pulled back a little, searching his face.

“I don’t want to catch her, I want to make her pay. I know it’s hard to understand-“

“I do,” you cut in, “anyone would if they’d been through what you have.”

“You didn’t tell them about me?” You shook your head in response. “We need to come up with a plan of action.”

“I…I can’t tonight. Please?”

Before Spencer could speak again you excused yourself to the bathroom and a moment later he heard the shower go. You looked a little better when you emerged in clean pyjamas with damp hair – calmer at least.

“You can stay here tonight, I don’t mind sharing.” Spencer went to argue but you carried on talking. “Actually I would prefer not to be alone and it’s better if you don’t move around the hotel right?”

He couldn’t argue with that but it still seemed like a terrible idea. The pair of you were emotional, not to mention vulnerable and the idea of being so close in the darkness made his heart beat a little quicker.

“If you insist…”

“I do,” you answered firmly.

Spencer washed quickly, trying to cool down his hot face and failing miserably before climbing into bed. You lay on your side, facing him. Even when the light was turned off he could still make out the outline of your face.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Your teammates recognised the name Thomas Merton. It means something to you right?”

That was a whole Pandora’s box that Spencer couldn’t even begin to open now. Maeve had been constantly in his thoughts when he was in prison but he’d tried not to think about her after his release. She wouldn’t recognise the man who poisoned the other prisoners, who choked a pregnant woman and would probably kill her next time they met. Maeve would be disgusted and it broke his heart.

“A friend of mine gave me a book before she died that had a quote by Merton written inside,” Spencer said slowly. You were silent and for a moment he thought you’d fallen asleep.

“How do you do it?” you asked finally. Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Do what?”

“Survive so much pain?”


	7. Chapter 7

“How do you do it?” you asked finally.

“Do what?” was Spencer’s response.

“Survive so much pain?” Your head was reeling, not just from the events of today, not even from everything Spencer had revealed but because of what it all implied. He’d been hurt so much, so often. If you’d had to endure even a fraction of what he had you weren’t sure you could make it.

“I...I’m not sure I am,” he replied softly. Your heart ached. You reached out in the darkness and found his hand, warm and clenched as he gripped the sheets, and laid your own over it tentatively. Spencer didn’t pull away but you heard his breathing quicken. You inched closer and your hand travelled to his face. His cheeks were wet and you brushed the errant tears away with your thumb.

“Your boss showed me a picture of you,” you said, “you looked really happy.” Your hand stayed in place, caressing his cheek. “No beard though.”

“Is that an improvement or not?” His tone lightened and you let out a low chuckle in response. In truth you liked him both ways.

“You have nothing to worry about, you’re still handsome.” You felt his face pull into a smile beneath your touch but then just as quickly it was gone.

“There’s this thing called transference-“ Spencer started but you cut him off with a kiss. Everything stilled for a moment as you tried to use the gesture to convey everything words could not. He sighed, as you pulled apart. “We shouldn’t.”

“You don’t want to?”

“I do but…it’s a lot. We’ve been through a lot and-“ you kissed him again. Harder this time, lips parted and tongue gently probing his. Spencer rolled back slightly pulling you on top of him, his hands travelling to your face, keeping you close. You felt safer and calmer than you had in a long time. You moved to kiss his jaw, his neck, his pulse fluttering beneath your lips.

“This is a bad idea,” Spencer said weakly though he didn’t break his hold. “Is it real?” You paused, moving to look at him with a frown in the dark. “I mean…this whole ordeal has been overwhelming for both of us. Do you want this because you want me or because what I represent?”

“You,” you said firmly but as much as you hated to admit it he was right. You were both in a heightened state right now, in no shape to be making big emotional decisions. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

“You didn’t,” Spencer groaned as you shifted apart, “stupid profiling brain.” You snorted with laughter as he ran his hands through his hair.

“How about for tonight you just hold me?” you asked, “then when all this is over…” You let the question hang in the air and by way of answer spencer pulled you close. His embrace was firm but not tight and as you drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat all you wanted was for this to be over so you could see where this would lead.

Your dreams were hazy, figures in the dark and whispers you couldn’t make out. You could hear footsteps behind you.

Then you weren’t asleep anymore but you weren’t awake either. Through the fog of sleep you could make out movement in the room but by the time you realised it wasn’t Spencer you were distracted by a cool mist over your face. It smelt sweet, slightly fruity, like bubble gum. Your eyes strained but whoever it was moved. Their words were warped and you threw your hands out, first in front of you to grab your assailant but when you only met thin air you rolled to the side to wake Spencer. His hand found yours and pulled.

There was vague sensation of trying to run but your legs would not obey. Your feet met the cold wooden floor and then pain bloomed as you buckled and your knee slammed into the boards. There was a crack of light and a door opened at the same time that your hand slipped from Spencer’s grip. You crashed into whoever had entered the room. It was someone you knew but your brain wouldn’t co-operate. You called out to them for help, reaching forwards.

Your body was alien to you, heavy and unwieldy. You crumpled to the ground, unable to move and blinded by a light that made the world blur. Or maybe it was the sweet smell that had grown stronger and was making you dizzy.

Spencer was saying something. No he was pleading, he was pleading for you. Your name stuck out in the garbled conversation. The light was gone as someone leaned over you, silhouetted so you couldn’t make out their features. It was a woman and she was laughing and holding something metal. Someone else, a friend but not Spencer, called out.

A thought cut through the haze like the knife that was being held to your throat.

_I am going to die here._

The knife was raised, light flashing across the blade like lightning before she brought it down.

* * *

Hotch had the unenviable task of trying to explain to Warner and his Captain why they didn’t think Reid was a suspect. Emily knew she would be more use liaising with the team so she let JJ and Luke fill her in on what little the ME had been able to tell them before phoning Garcia.

“DNA confirms Sammy Daniels was Daniel Adams,” said JJ, “the second or third stab wound to the heart is what killed him but the killer kept going. Most of the damage was concentrated on his chest and groin.”

“Cat could be punishing him for the sexual abuse she suffered at the hands of her foster family once her Dad took off,” suggested Luke. “What do we know about Daniel’s life here?”

“He was quiet, kept to himself. He had a small apartment in Oakville that local PD checked out but there was nothing there from his old life. It’s like he completely erased any trace of Daniel Adams before he returned here as Sammy.”

There must have been some trace, Emily thought. Or else there was some habit or remnant from his old life. Daniel may have returned home but so too had Cat.

“Garcia can you find any connection with Cat’s childhood? Places they would go, people they knew? There must be something he didn’t let go of.”

“I’ll check.”

“In the meantime did you get anything on the CCTV?” JJ asked.

“With Cat or Daniel no but…” Emily could feel the nervousness radiating out of the silence.

“Garcia?”

“Shortly before Daniel was murdered Reid can be seen leaving The Inn…with the woman who runs it.”

“Y/N? So she’s involved some how?” Emily frowned. She tried to remember every detail of her conversation with you, going over everything she dismissed as part of your grief. Were you a friend to Spencer? Something more?

“The accomplice?” JJ suggested, “There’s no way Cat got in and out of The Inn without anyone seeing.”

“No whatever else she was hiding she was genuinely grieving Daniel plus she was away when the murder happened. If Spencer was with her they could be friends. But Daniel’s killer must be someone connected to the hotel,” said Emily.

“Wait,” Luke shook his head, “then why the overkill? Cat hated her father but if she didn’t kill him…”

“Someone else had reason to…or he’s a surrogate,” said Emily. “Lindsay and Cat bonded because they had both lost their mothers and had violent fathers. Garcia?”

“On it. Okay, let’s see…Hmm, Oakville has a domestic violence problem judging from these stats.” Distaste dripped from Garcia’s voice. The sound of her typing away furiously kept the beat with Emily’s jangled nerves. Through the window of the conference room they’d taken over, Emily saw Hotch emerge from the Captain’s office with a sullen looking Warner. “Cat’s mother’s murder was the standout crime from the last thirty years but there were four other women who died either as a result of a domestic assault or who were known to authorities and social services. Two of them had children near enough in age to Cat but one was a son and in the other case the husband was jailed for the murder and the daughter moved away afterwards.”

Hotch and Warner approached silently. Emily glanced their way but got no reaction. She shook it off, time was running out.

“None of them had connections to The Inn either I’m guessing?” she asked. “Is there anything of note with the staff?”

“Niamh Dawson,” Warner said stiffly. He shifted uncomfortably as everyone looked his way. “Her daughter? She died. Well, she was raped and murdered. Her boyfriend and a couple of his pals…” he swallowed and looked away. “She went through hell. They all got off.”

“You worked the case?’ Emily asked softly. Warner only nodded in response.

“Cat could have appealed to Niamh’s motherly instincts,” said JJ, “maybe told her about her father?”

“Her name doesn’t appear on prison logs,” Garcia said, “but Niamh was making really long car journeys every Thursday for the last three months Cat was imprisoned and there was a “Leanne Dunne” signing the visitor log at the prison every Thursday and that was-“

“Niamh’s daughter,” Warner finished, “So this hit woman manipulated Niamh into killing Daniel and framing your colleague?”

“Looks that way,” said Emily, “for what its worth Detective. I’m sorry you got caught up in this but Spencer Reid’s a good man.”

“Who may be in danger,” said Hotch, “we need to-“

“Detective we got a 911 call from The Inn,” a young officer burst into the conference room, “there’s another body.”

* * *

This was worse than Mexico. Mexico had passed in a blur and his disconnection from his own sense of self had made it bearable, at least until he had sobered up. Now Spencer was awake and aware of his inability to move or speak. He tried moving his fingers and toes but his body would not obey him. He couldn’t even feel relief that Cat was gone because she had taken you with her and was currently doing god knows what. Maybe you were dead already. The thought rose in him like he’d burst into flames. He was going to kill Cat.

_You’re…you’re not going to hurt her are you? The woman -Niamh- had looked so betrayed when she’d seen Cat lean over you with the knife. Your eyes had fluttered open and closed and Spencer didn’t know if you were aware of what was happening._

_“I don’t share,” Cat said in a singsong voice. “Get him in the car, we need to leave.”_

_“Not if you’re hurting Y/N, she’s innocent! You wouldn’t hurt an innocent girl like you, like my Leanne.” Niamh had begged. Poor stupid Niamh who had clearly thought she was a white knight for buying Cat’s sob story and taking out her father. She didn’t even have a chance to blink when Cat whipped around and slammed the knife into her throat._

Cat has sprayed something and he’d passed out, waking up in a dirty room, tied to a chair. The walls and floor was tiled and caked in dust - a kitchen of some sort? When he breathed in Spencer could taste damp and mould and it turned his stomach.

The door banged open and Cat swaggered in, legs caked in mud. At least it wasn’t blood, Spencer tried to reassure himself, but it did little good. Cat’s eyes were wild, more animal than human and she prowled forward like she was going for his throat.

“I’ve missed you,” she said softly as she knelt before him, hands resting on his knees. Spencer wanted to jerk away, kick out and stop her from touching him but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t scream either which was the other impulse fighting to be realised. If Cat noticed she said nothing, smiling sweetly as her hands travelled higher, squeezing gently. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past few months. Have you been thinking about me? Where I’m hiding? My baby?”

Cat stood ran her hands over her flat stomach, chuckling to herself. Not surprising. A child would be nothing more than a liability on the run.

“No? Not interested? I guess since you know now it isn’t yours,” she shrugged, “just so you know, if it had been me rather than Lindsay in Mexico then it absolutely would have been. Imagine that huh? You. Me. Baby Maeve. Would you still want to kill me? I guess me blowing up Grandma would make for an awkward Christmas but we could make it work right?”

Cat licked her lips, eyes roaming Spencer’s face. She had nothing left to lose which made her more dangerous than ever. Spencer needed to work out what she wanted, what the endgame was.

“I know you’re wondering how I pulled this off,” she laughed. Spencer let out a ‘ngh’ sound, all he could manage under the circumstances but he hoped it translated into ‘I don’t give a fuck you depraved bitch’.

All he wanted to know was where you were.

Cat’s eye twitched, the smile falling from her face and her eyes going dark. Cat shifted closer, tilting her head like she was about to kiss him or bite him. Spencer could feel her breath. Did she think she was irresistible? Did she see this as some kind of seduction? Planting herself firmly in Spencer’s lap with a wiggle a moment later answered that question. Spencer struggled to find a sound that would convey ‘I would rather die than have you anywhere near me’ as accurately as he wanted it to.

“I didn’t kill your girlfriend,” Cat whispered in his ear. “I really wanted to though. I had this fantasy of you waking up in bed covered in her blood, her lying in your arms like she was last night, except cold and stiff.” Spencer hissed through his teeth in response and Cat let out a low chuckle. She pressed her lips to his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Her nails dug into his scalp, scraping him as she pulled away with a laugh. He was going to make her pay. He was going to rip her heart out with his bare hands.

“But I already framed you for murder once and I hate being predictable so I figured she could play a game with us. We’re gonna see if you can save your girlfriend this time or if she’s going to end up just like the last one.”

Spencer’s rage was white hot as Cat slid lazily off of his lap.

“God you don’t know what it does to me when you look at me like that,” Cat bit her lip, “and as much as I’d like to see what happens when Agent Barbie isn’t here to restrain your…urges, you should remember that I am the only one that knows where the motel floozy is.”

“Y-yuh…yuh bit-“ The drugs were wearing off. Spencer’s body still felt alien to him but he could at least flex his fingers and shift in the seat.

“Yeah yeah, I’m a bitch, I’m a whore, I’m whatever,” Cat rolled her eyes. “God your mommy issues have left you with some really toxic ideas about women Spencer. Is that why you jumped into bed with a girl you hardly knew? Or was it because she has no idea what kind of man you are? Or maybe she likes the rough type? Or-“

“Game,” Spencer huffed out, “what’s…the…game.”

_I am going to beat you a third time and then I’m going to make sure you never hurt anyone else again._

“Ugh fine,” Cat rolled her eyes. With a swift movement she pulled out the knife and cut the ties binding Spencer’s hand and feet. He tried to stand but his legs were shaking. “Your girlfriend is out there somewhere,” she thrust knife towards the doorway, “So we’re going to take a romantic stroll through the woods and I’ll tell you if we’re getting hot or cold.”

“And? Questions? Riddles? You always want something else,” Spencer wheezed.

“Oh there’s plenty I want,” Cat swept her gaze over him in a way that made Spencer's skin crawl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fulfils my hurt/comfort square for CM Bingo


	8. Chapter 8

Your head throbbed like you were hung over but a hundred times worse. Bits and pieces flashed in your mind, too hazy to grab on to and too disconnected for you to make out what had happened. You tried to swallow but your mouth and throat was so dry it hurt.

Pain pricked your consciousness first. Besides your head, your back, shoulders, and legs ached and it took a moment to realise it was probably due to the hard bed you were laying on.

Except it wasn’t a bed.

You tried to sit up and your head slammed into something hard almost instantly, as did your knees. Panic rose in you as you reached out in all directions only to be met with rough wood.

A coffin.

Realisation hit you like a freight train and your breathing grew ragged. You were dying, trapped and no one knew where you were.

Spencer knew you had been taken. But where was he? Was he trapped too or was he dead? Tears burned your cheeks and you pounded the lid of the coffin in frustration. It groaned in response, dirt spilling through the cracks in the boards, making you choke.

Keeping calm would save your life. There was a finite amount of air and panicking would only use it up faster. You tried to steady your breaths and slow your heartbeat.

Niamh. Niamh had been there with who you assumed was Cat. There had been a knife and blood and…

You heaved, your chest burning. Niamh had been working with the Cat the whole time and now she was dead. It was too much to process. You were swinging wildly between grief and outrage. 

No, you didn’t have time for that. You shoved all that pain to the side and focused on your surroundings.

The wood was soft and rough. There were splinters in your palms already. It might yield if you pushed hard enough but you had no way of knowing how deep in the ground you were. Shouting would just use up precious oxygen and you doubted you were buried anywhere you could be heard.

All you had were the pyjamas you were wearing in bed. The thin cotton did little to protect you from the wood and you couldn’t fashion a tool. Tears pricked your eyes as a feeling of utter hopelessness crashed over you.

You tried to think back to the night before, kissing Spencer and falling asleep in his arms. You wanted to recapture a little of how that had made you feel as if it could spark something that would help you get free.

_“How about for tonight you just hold me?” you asked, “then when all this is over…”_

Fuck this, you thought, your focus becoming razor sharp. You needed to live. You need to kiss Spencer and take care of The Inn and make sure Cat and Niamh went to prison for the rest of their lives.

The only way out was up. You would rather die trying to escape than lie there slowly suffocating. You pulled the bottom of your shirt up over your face to stop you breathing in any dirt and then you pounded the lid as hard as you could with your fists and feet.

Pain shot through you blow after blow but you kept going even as the splinters sliced your skin open and you could feel the blood dribbling down your arms. The wood creaked and earth rained down around you. You rolled your head from side to side as it piled up over your make shift mask but you didn’t pause in fighting your way out.

Your fist connected with dirt rather than wood. The hole was small but it was enough to start tearing the planks free and push them to the side. Then you sunk your hands into the dirt above you and pulled yourself up.

The panic rose again as you found yourself completely surrounded. Your shirt slipped back down and even though you clamped your lips shut you were still swallowing and breathing in dirt.

_Don’t stop, don’t stop._

Your lungs began to burn. You needed to breathe desperately but there was no air. It was hard to get a grip so all you could do was flail upwards.

_This is it; I’m going to die._

It was like there were two voices in your head. One sobbed for you to give up, weeping for the friends and family you would never see again. The other screamed at you to just keep moving. You had to help Spencer. You had to protect Laurie and Amy-Beth. You had too much to live for.

The second voice won and though your body had been pushed past the point of exhaustion you kept pulling yourself upwards until your hand broke through. Closer to the surface you could make out a muffled sound. With nothing to grab onto it was harder to pull yourself up. All you needed was to get your head out so you could breathe but there was nothing to grab on to. The muffled sound grew louder and the earth packed around you vibrated.

You needed to breathe, everything was getting woozy. Maybe just a little rest…

“Is that him?”

“Spread out, Adams could still be in the area.”

“Hold on!”

A hand grabbed yours and you were pulled upwards. There was air and light but the latter was strange. More hands pulled you out of the ground but you were dizzy and everyone’s faces went dark.

* * *

“We’ll find them.” Emily was anticipating Hotch’s gentle reassurance and for a moment it felt like it did before the Doyle fiasco. Everything _was_ going to be okay because Aaron Hotchner said so. Then the EMT wheeled out the body bag with Niamh in it and the certainty faded.

“You know, before he went to prison I told Spencer I was proud of him. I was. So fucking proud Aaron. He’s always been a fighter, always been resilient and right now he needs to tap into that more than ever.” Emily sniffed. “I can’t help but wonder if I put too much pressure on him by saying that. Maybe if he’d felt like he could trust me more he would have come to me and Mexico wouldn’t have happened and Diana would be alive and-“

Hotch shook his head and pulled her close. The suddenness of the gesture made Emily speechless and for a moment she just froze until, hesitantly, she put her arms around Hotch, burying her face in his shirt.

“You did everything you could. You’re doing everything you can. Reid’s not a child; he has control over his own choices.”

“Uh guys? I have Garcia on the phone.” They didn’t break apart as quickly as Emily feared when JJ approached them but the embrace had still ended too soon for her. She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself to recapture some of that grounded feeling Hotch had given her.

“Okay so all I could find was a regular card payment that Daniel Adams made every Saturday morning at a diner at the foot of the mountains. He ordered the same thing week in week out until it closed about a year ago. It was very popular among hikers,” explained Garcia. “Looking back over his financials I think he took Cat there as a kid.”

“I’m thinking this was Daniel’s one link to his old life,” JJ added, “and if it’s abandoned it’s a good place to take Spence and Y/N and do…” She trailed off leaving an uneasy silence in her wake.

“Get Weaver,” Hotch said thickly, “we need to move now.”

They were so close. There was a chair and restraints in a back room and evidence that someone had been hiding out in the diner for a while. But once again Cat fucking Adams was one step ahead of them. CSU had followed them to scene but there was no way they would find something in time. Emily stared down at the chair, trying to imagine Spencer tied up there. He would talk his way out of it. Whatever else you could say about Cat Adams she loved getting into it with Reid, she’d let him talk. He was her one weakness.

“I don’t think Cat was keeping two people here,” JJ appeared at her side, “Y/N could be leverage to get Spence to do what Cat wants.”

“No, that’s not her game.” Emily rubbed her face. “We’ve got to think like Spencer. He’s gone at this alone but he needs connection, contact. He obviously roped Y/N into helping him with Daniel Adams but what if it was something more?”

“Fuck. So Cat sees her as a romantic rival? She could be dead already,” JJ hissed. “I should have let him choke her.”

Emily looked at her in shock. Hotch, fresh from briefing Weaver, approached just in time to catch JJ’s words.

“I know it’s terrible! She was pregnant and Spence is federal agent and I couldn’t let him choke her to death in custody but…fuck! It would have saved us a lot of trouble now.” Hotch’s gaze swung between JJ and Emily. His face had settled into that familiar mask.

“Weaver’s men found tracks heading into the woods. We’re forming teams. I’ll take Alvez and head South West. You two go in the opposite direction.” Before either woman could respond he had gone.

“I stand by what I said,” JJ kicked the chair, sending it toppling. The clatter echoed around the room.

“So do I,” Emily said. “Let’s go.”

It was one of Weaver’s officers who found you trying to claw your way out of the dirt. You were clearly disorientated as Emily tried to speak to you.

“Niamh. She helped that woman and-“

“We know.” Emily shrugged off her FBI jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders though you weren’t shaking from the cold.

“I thought I was going to die. Spencer… Spencer? Is he okay, have you found him?”

“Not yet but we’re going to. I need you to go with this officer-“

“I’m not leaving until I know Spencer’s okay!”

Emily opened her mouth to argue and a gunshot rang through the trees.

* * *

Dawn was breaking as Cat forced Spencer out of the diner and across the parking lot towards the hiking trail. Everything was completely still and the only sound was distant birdsong. It all felt wrong, far too peaceful when you were out there somewhere.

“Is there a time limit?” Spencer glanced at his watch.

“Yeah I guess you could say that,” Cat laughed, “I’m guessing there’s about two hours of air.”

“What does tha- wait. You buried her?” Panic surged in Spencer’s chest as Cat smirked at him.

“Since time is of the essence I’ll give you a helping hand to start. Take the path on the right first.”

They continued in that vein a little while, Spencer choosing a direction and then Cat gleefully informing him whether he’d chosen right or not.

Spencer stopped dead, Cat almost walking into him. She aimed the gun at his face as he turned round.

“What’s your game? Usually there’s questions and riddles and bullshit like that. You really expect me to believe that you’re happy to wander round like this? No, it’s not cruel enough for you,” said Spencer. His hands were balled into fists. There would no way to find you in time but then he wasn’t supposed to. Just like the team wasn’t supposed to save his mother. Just like Spencer wasn’t supposed to admit he and Cat deserved each other so she could throw it in his face.

As the revelation hit him, it felt like everything became dead still. The birdsong turned into white noise and all he was aware of was the smug look on Cat’s face.

“You think I’m cruel?” Cat pouted. “Rich coming from a guy who choked a pregnant woman.”

“You deserved it.”

“And my baby?”

“A mercy killing. No child deserves to have a monster like you for a parent.” Something seemed to flicker for a moment behind Cat’s eyes. It was brief but Spencer caught it. His mouth twisted into a smile.

“Touched a nerve there?”

“No. Keep moving. Y/N hasn’t got long and-“

“I have no idea how long I was out. Y/N’s probably suffocated by now and we’re wandering round in circles. Is that the game? You want me to find her body?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time would it?” Cat hissed. Her fingers flexed on the gun and Spencer shifted his weight in anticipation. “At least you got some action with this one first. Poor Maeve. Though she had that fiancé right? Maybe she got the goods from him while stringing you along.”

It took all of Spencer’s self control not to hurl himself forward and go for Cat’s throat.

“So that is what it is. You want to show me I’m a failure. That I can’t save the people I love. Odd angle but I guess it makes sense in a way.” Spencer gave a small shrug and suppressed a grin as frustration pulled Cat’s face into a grimace.

“Meaning?”

“No one’s ever loved you enough to fight for you. Yes I couldn’t save my Mom or Maeve or Y/N but I cared enough to try. Your mother stayed with your father and didn’t fight him off. He ran from you the first chance he got. Everyone who’s ever worked with you either had to be seduced or bribed or manipulated. No one ever _chose_ you Cat.”

There it was, the rage in her eyes that told Spencer he was right. He’d hit a nerve and struck gold. Now he just needed to get her to lose focus.

“Poor Cat, only good for fucking or killing and then casting aside. You’re a human void, a placeholder. If your mother hadn’t died she would have left you too because you’re a cancer that consumes everything it come into contact with. Maybe she just gave up rather than have to look after you day after day.”

Spencer was ready for the gunshot, diving downwards and barrelling into Cat. She screamed like a rabid animal, tearing at his face and hair with her nails. Spencer could feel the blood trickling down his cheeks and the sting of open wounds but he ignored it, slamming his fist into Cat’s jaw.

They both clambered to their feet, breathing heavily and circling each other. Cat spat blood out onto the ground, snarling. Spencer was sure he’d managed to fracture her nose too. A savage satisfaction rose in him.

The gun was gone and as soon as Cat saw Spencer register that she broke into a run, up the slope and through the trees. Without hesitation Spencer raced after her, his blood on fire and the only thing he was focused on was catching up to her and ending this as quickly as he could.

Cat was fast but Spencer was more determined. His clothes snagged on branches and pain bloomed in every muscle and joint but he kept going, never losing sight of her.

Then there was a flash of something ahead, darting out of the trees right in Cat’s path making her skid to a halt.

It was you.


	9. Chapter 9

You had sprinted away from the FBI agents as soon as you had heard the gunshot. Agent Prentiss had yelled for you so stay with them but you ignored her and outran both her and Agent Jareau. This was your home turf. You knew the woods better than they did and knew which trails lay in the direction the gunshot had come from.

Eventually you caught sight of blurred figures racing through the trees and you were able to head them off.

The look of pure shock on Cat Adams’ face was intensely satisfying.

“Y/N!” Spencer burst out of he trees behind her, his own expression a mixture of astonishment and relief. It was cut short as Cat darted off to the side, down a narrow, rocky path. Spencer didn’t hesitate before heading after her.

“Spencer wait!” you called, “The FBI are here. They can go after her”

“They won’t catch her,” he called back without stopping. You followed after him, the uneven path hampering your progress. Spencer was silent, relentless in his movements, never stumbling or slowing down.

“This areas not safe for hikers. There’s rock falls and small chasms” you said, wincing as the stones tore at your bare feet. This was madness and every instinct was yelling at you to turn back but the blank look on Spencer’s face made you keep going.

“Good we can box her in. Up there!”

The path ended in a cliff with Cat right up near the edge. There was nowhere to run. Beneath the cliff was a crop of jagged rocks and a fast running stream.

“You know what?” Cat looked straight past Spencer at you, making your skin crawl, “I gave Spencer the chance to save you, but he chose to attack me instead. You were losing oxygen in that box and his only concern was hurting me. What a Prince Charming.”

“You were never going to let her live,” Spencer moved forward, “you wanted me to find her body, to prove a point.”

“You couldn’t know that. She’s fine. I mean she’s breathing. No thanks to you.”

“Shut up,” you snapped. You didn’t feel fine, you felt broken and bloody, and all you wanted was to go home. “Spencer just…arrest her or something.”

For a moment no one said anything. Spencer’s mouth was pressed into a thin line, a slight tremor rippling across his body like he was deciding whether to move or not.

“He’s not going to arrest me sweetheart,” Cat said softly. “Look at him. He wants to tear me apart.”

“You’ve done terrible things.” You hated the way your voice shook as you spoke, the way it made Cat smile.

“So that makes it okay for Spencer here to kill me? What about justice?”

“This is justice. Justice for my mother, for Nadie Ramos and for every single person you’ve ever hurt.” Spencer strode forward and grabbed Cat by the shoulders. The smile slipped away instantly and your stomach lurched.

“If you do this you’re just like me,” Cat said. Now it was her voice that was shaking.

“No.”

“Yeah I’m right. If you do this then we are exactly the same and I win,” Cat yelled. Spencer smiled. It wasn’t a smirk, it wasn’t twisted. It was a soft, sad smile, like he had given you last night.

“We not alike, not at all. Because you couldn’t kill me.”

Cat opened her mouth to speak but the words were lost to the wind as Spencer shoved her away over the cliff. The air was sucked from your lungs and time froze for a moment.

Spencer knelt down at the edge of the cliff and slowly you crept over to join him. Cat was suspended around halfway down. The side of her head had smashed against a sharp rock and a second one was bursting through her abdomen. Blood foamed out of the side of her mouth and her twitching lips were trying to form words but only a horrible bubbling sound came out. Her limbs shook, the movements become more and more jerky until in an instant all movement ceased and the light left her eyes.

Your own eyes stung and you scrambled to wipe away the tears with your bloody hands.

“She isn’t worth it,” Spencer said as he stood up, his voice sounding oddly far away. For a moment you just looked at him, biting down on your lip to stop the sobs.

In the distance you heard voices and movement through the trees. You couldn’t even turn to see who was coming after you. You just stared at Spencer. The exhaustion was evident but there was lightness there you had never seen before, a relief that made your stomach churn.

“I’m telling them she ran and she fell,” he said matter-of-factly. The words didn’t register in your brain initially until he repeated them. “You tell them what you have to,” he added.

Spencer didn’t wait for an answer. He just brushed passed you and made his way towards the approaching voices.

* * *

“This is a shit storm,” Emily announced, closing the door to the conference room and handing Hotch a cup coffee that was sorely needed. It had taken hours for local PD to interview both you and Spencer and the BAU hadn’t even been allowed to sit in. They’d been encouraged to go home or back to Quantico but Emily refused to leave, instead dispatching JJ and Alvez to begin writing up their reports for Barnes.

Even the thought of that woman made Emily want to slam her head into the wall. There was no way she was going to let this go. There was a dead fugitive, two dead civilians, and a traumatised witness.

“It could have been worse,” Hotch said as Emily took a gulp of the coffee and winced., “Reid and Y/N are alive and a dangerous criminal is off the streets.”

“You know how Barnes likes her optics though.” Emily binned the coffee, there was no sense in torturing herself further. “Congratulations on getting your job back.”

“What?”

Emily settled down next to him, running her hands through her hair. God she wanted tequila so badly.

“There is no way I’m remaining Unit Chief after this,” she sighed. “I was so pissed at you for a while for recommending me but I love this team and I love this job and I don’t want to lose it. But if they offer it to you that wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“This is the part where I’m supposed to say that you’re a good agent, you can win it all back, blah blah blah.” Hotch’s coffee followed Emily’s into the trash before he turned back to her. She raised an eyebrow.

“Am I not a good agent?”

“You’re the best I ever worked with but we both know that counts for shit,” Hotch sighed. “Remember Alex Blake and how long it took for her to get her career back on track? Hell, I was tipped for director at one point until I made waves and it was made very clear that I’d gone as far as I would go.”

A heavy silence hung over them. Through the window they saw an exhausted Spencer being led from an interrogation room.

“He’s done. I’m done,” Emily said. “I should go and see how he is.”

“Before you do you should call Interpol,” said Hotch. “You’re a born leader and you should be somewhere that recognises that.”

“What about you?”

“I’m done too. I only came back for Spencer. Barnes can go fuck herself.” Emily spluttered out a laugh at that. Hotch couldn’t help but join in. A few officers passing by gave them strange looks until they managed to get themselves under control.

“Can I ask you something?” Emily said when they finally composed themselves. “Why did you never ask me to stay?”

Hotch paused, head tilted to the side as he considered her words.

“It felt wrong… No that’s not it,” Hotch shook his head, “I was afraid of hurting you if I asked you to stay. You needed to leave to heal properly and I thought if I stopped you leaving you wouldn’t get that chance. Also…”

“What?” Emily asked softly. She thought she knew what he was going to say but it was important to hear it in his words.

“Seeing you everyday and not being able to tell you how I felt was difficult. I adored Beth, I did. She was good for me, and good for Jack. But…”

“Sometimes you want what isn’t good for you,” Emily finished. Hotch nodded. Emily had expected it to hurt but instead she felt lighter.

“It’s that old cliché isn’t it,” Hotch added. “Not wanting to risk a romance at the cost of losing a friend. I can’t tell you what your friendship has meant to me.”

“Me too,” Emily rose, “and for what it’s worth I never would have wanted you to risk your career or what you had with Beth.”

“Thank you. So what now?”

“Now we find out what happens to Spencer,” Emily rose, “now I face Barnes and try and recommend JJ as my replacement. Now we heal.”

“We’re good at that,” said Hotch. There was a soft tap on the door. Spencer stood there with a uniformed officer.

“Are we?” Emily sighed before nodding at them both to enter.

* * *

At least it wasn’t prison, Spencer told himself over and over. No one had been able to prove he was lying about what happened to Cat and he suspected Oakville PD just wanted the whole thing dealt with as quickly as possible.

You’d backed him up. Garcia had managed to sneak him a copy of your interview transcript and you had said pretty much the same thing he had. The pair of you had chased after Cat and she had fallen from the cliff in an attempt to escape. There was no mention of you helping him with his investigation and you glossed over the fact you’d been sharing a bed when Cat had abducted the pair of you.

In any other circumstances the statement would be too vague to be credible but the whole affair had clearly traumatised you. Unlike Spencer you’d been taken straight to the hospital and an officer had taken your statement after the sedative you were given had worn off. From there you were taken to Laurie’s house and you’d stayed with her for a while.

The Inn had closed, all guests were refunded, and when Spencer drove there after speaking with Hotch and Emily he found the building dark and empty. It must have broken your heart to see the building you had grown up in like that. Cat had tainted all the happy memories.

No, he had. Spencer and his need for vengeance had done that.

When he attempted to see you at Laurie’s house she told him you were sleeping. He’d been certain he had glimpsed you behind the curtains but he said nothing.

“I have to go back to DC,” he explained, “but I wrote down my number for Y/N. So she can call me.” He held it out awkwardly and Laurie frowned down at it.

“I’ll give it to her but…I don’t know if she’d going to use it.” Spencer’s heart sank. He knew it was the best he could hope for so he mumbled thanks, the door slamming in his face.

The debriefing was excruciating, the outcome humiliating. He wasn’t technically fired, it was more of a forced retirement. He could teach as part of the outreach programme, which would have excited him at one point. Instead Spencer just felt hollow.

“Turn over your gun and your badge,” Barnes demanded, “and Agent Reid I want it noted that I disagree with the panel’s decision on this. There are a lot of weak points in your version of events. You’re exceedingly lucky that you aren’t in jail right now. Something funny?” she added as Spencer gave a wry chuckle.

“It’s just I’ve never felt less lucky in my life,” he scoffed, tossing his creds down on the table, followed by the gun. He left before she could say anything else and headed to the office. It was likely the last time he’d be allowed inside the building and he wanted to see it one last time.

His desk was bare, as was Stephen Walker’s. Emily’s office door was open and with a pang in his chest Spencer could see that had been cleared out too.

“Hey boy wonder!” Garcia said softly. She pulled him into a hug but it wasn’t as tight as usual.

“Hey you,” Spencer croaked. Damn, he could have held back the tears if she hadn’t called him that. “God I’m so sorry!”

“No don’t be!” Garcia sobbed.

“I tore the team apart,” he waved a hand around the sad, empty bullpen. “Emily’s gone. JJ won’t return my calls.”

“Emily has a life in London,” Garcia dabbed at her eyes, “and JJ will…she just needs time.”

But there wasn’t enough time in the world to undo what he’d done. He went back to his apartment after promising Garcia he’d call her that weekend. If felt wrong, like he was taking advantage of her love for him but in that moment she was the only person he could reach out to that would accept him.

He was alone.

After a few weeks he couldn’t bear it anymore and made the long drive to The Inn. It was open again but not as busy as it had been while he was a guest. Laurie was at the front desk, her face falling when she saw Spencer.

“I really need to see Y/N,” he pleaded.

“She’s really busy!”

“I just need to explain things to her. Did you give her my number?”

“She did,” Spencer whipped round at the sound of your voice, “Laurie it’s okay. We can talk outside.”

There was a chill in the air that made Spencer pull his jacket tight around him. For a moment he deliberated making some comment about the weather but it seemed so banal given everything they had gone through.

“What do you want Spencer?” you sighed, arms folded across your chest. Spencer shifted from side to side.

“To apologise,” Spencer said. It was all he could do not to reach out and touch you.

“For?”

“For bringing Cat here. For not working out that Niamh was her accomplice sooner. For putting you in harm’s way.”

“For murdering a woman in front of me?”

Spencer stopped. Part of him wanted to argue, to protest. Cat had been a terrible person, she’d killed hundreds of people, and the world was a safer place without her. He didn’t care she was dead. He hadn’t taken any pleasure in killing her but he was glad she was gone.

But the look on your face stopped him, it wasn’t fear, it was betrayal. You’d thought he was a good man and he’d disappointed you. Even though he’d made no secret he wanted Cat dead you hadn’t truly believed he was capable.

“I am sorry you had to lie for me.”

“You…” you stared at the floor, some of your resolve wavering, “I didn’t think you deserved to go back to prison but…I’m not sure I agree with what you did.”

What luxury to feel that way, Spencer thought.

“She killed Sammy and Niamh,” Spencer said instead and instantly regretted it when you looked up at him, the hurt in your eyes so intense.

“I know you’re sorry. I believe you never meant to hurt me but…”

“But?”

“You frighten me Spencer, “ you sobbed, “it feels awful because I know you’ve suffered and you never meant it but it’s true and…and I know I said I wanted to see what happened after it was all over but I think…” Spencer wanted to turn away, he didn’t want to hear you say it, “I can’t I’m sorry. Please go and please don’t come back.”

It physically hurt to walk away but Spencer made himself do it. He’d lost everything else already, why would you be any different?

Perhaps some people were just not meant to be happy.

“For what it’s worth,” he said before heading back to his car, “I think I could have fallen in love with you.”

“I know,” you wiped your eyes, “I think that’s why it hurts so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also fulfils my "forced retirement" square for Criminal Minds Bingo 2020

**Author's Note:**

> **I do not give consent for this story to be copied and reposted to another platform. I only post my work here and on my tumblr, if your see this story anywhere else it has been stolen.**


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